


Australia Verses The World (One-shots)

by CaraIsTrash



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: And wild weather, Angst, Australia and America are just normal bros, Australia centric, Australia deserves happiness, Australian Slang, BAMF countries, Brotherhood, Crack, England needs a break, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, He has so many deadly animals, How Do I Tag, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, New Zealand and Canada bond over their obnoxious brothers, Not Beta Read, Russia and Australia are memeing bros, Supernatural - Freeform, The chapters tag their own genre and any warnings, The world is afraid for Australia, What is up with this kid, everything is platonic, so like not everything will be here, stay safe kids, this is a oneshot book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 40,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraIsTrash/pseuds/CaraIsTrash
Summary: This is a collection of one-shots and drabbles about the Hetalia character Australia. Updates when I have a new idea mostly, though I try to update every fortnight. Rated T because some one-shots are a little dark or innuendo filled.





	1. Introduction

Hey guys, what's up?

It seems you've stumbled across my little one-shot book. This is a collection of one-shots and drabbles all about the Hetalia character Australia. This book is updated typically every month, but be warned that if I don't have any ideas or inspiration, I will wait until I do to update instead of putting out something with low quality. I accept requests and ideas, and encourage them to no end! If you have any ideas, go ahead and include it in a review on any chapter. If you do provide me with content, I will credit you in the chapter!

Most stories range from 1000-3000 words, their genre is in the title, and context is given in each authors note for your convenience! I love constructive criticism and just plain old praise but please try be polite or at least civil. Please don't be shy to review however, as I'm eternally grateful each time you take a moment to give me your thoughts! If you catch any mistakes in the chapter, I'll be sure to credit you for helping me out!

Anyway, please enjoy the one-shots I have written and if you like what you read, don't hesitate to send kudos or subscribe!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire book is also cross posted to my Fanfic.net account, so things will overlap or may seem confusing due to that!


	2. Language Barrier (Humour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of context to those who'll be confused: In Australia, flip-flops are called thongs, and since another thing *coughcough* is called that in other places, I thought I might address it.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a rainy day in England, but then again, when was it not? The personification was enjoying the soft patter on his roof by sitting in an arm-chair by the fire with a steaming cup of tea in his hand. He was expecting a guest soon, but he hardly saw any merit in dressing up his house for it. It was Australia after all.

England sighed and looked at the time, seeing that Aus was a few minutes late. England didn't appreciate tardiness, but he came to expect it with the Oceanic nation.

Ten minutes past thirteen hundred and a knock sounded on the door. England stood and opened the wood to face a soaking wet brunette. The former colony grinned at him despite the rain and made his way inside.

"Blimey, it's always raining at your place, what are you always so down about?" Australia joked.

England scoffed, leading the nation to his sitting room, "You know full well our emotions don't effect the weather."

"Yeah, but it makes for conversation," he countered, shaking his head like a wet dog and spraying water over the walls.

England frowned and bit back a scolding. Australia had hardly changed since he was a child. He was still the easily distracted, slightly self-centred, mischievous, trouble making nation he used to be. Despite his distaste for Australia's child-like tendencies, which reminded him of America sometimes, it was slightly comforting that he hadn't changed much since he was under England's rule.

"No it doesn't," England refuted, seating himself back on his chair.

"What are we having right now?" Australia said, flopping down and wetting the seat across from him.

"Tea," England rolled his eyes.

"Not that," Australia prompted, still smiling brightly.

"A conversation?" England said, before groaning and smacking his forehead at the realisation.

"Exactly, so it did work!" Aus exclaimed triumphantly.

England muttered some choice words under his breath.

"Anyway, I was just surprised to see everything to so cold and rainy here, since it's so hot at my place," Australia explained.

England didn't bother with a retort about how after a few centuries of living, Australia shouldn't be surprised anymore. He often found himself doing that in his former colony's presence. It was like leaving him in the care of New Zealand so often had frozen the Oceanic nation's ability to not state the obvious. Somehow. England refused to think it was in anyway his fault that Australia had turned out so absent minded.

"As I was walking down my drive way, my bloody thongs melted onto the side-walk!" Australia continued.

England spat out his drink.

"Y-your what?" He spluttered.

Surely this was a misunderstanding and Australia hadn't said what he thought he did. Please.

"My thongs. Good ones too, had my flag on em'," Australia answered, obviously finding nothing wrong in his statement.

England stared for a moment, green eyes searching for any chance he was playing some sort of perverted joke on him. Alas, it seemed Australia was completely serious. Britain's eye twitched as he tried to find sense in Aus' words, because for the love of the queen, he was not going to think about the possibility that what he thought was said, was actually said.

He finally hit the jackpot when he remembered Australia said they melted. Fabric such as what thongs were made of did not melt, so certainly this was just a language thing. England sighed in relief at the realisation.

"Oh, for a minute I thought you meant what we call a thong," England placed his cup down on the slightly wet tray.

"What do you mean?" Australia tilted his head. "What do you call thongs?"

England shifted uncomfortably, "uh, well, I mean- w-what were you even referencing in the first place?"

"The plastic shoe," Australia said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "What else could I have meant, old man?"

"First of all, I'm not an old man," England said, "Second of all, you don't want to know."

"Yeah I do," Australia said, "The same thing happened with America last week, he wouldn't tell me either!"

"For good reason," England muttered.

Australia looked up at him with a small pout, green eyes like his own big and dog-like. It was the puppy eyes.

England tried, he really did. It was the same with all his colonies, they knew exactly how to get him to cave. Those stupid puppy-dog eyes, the cute and pleading tilt of their head, no matter how old they got, England would always give.

"Oh for-" England stopped himself, "Fine, enough with the eyes."

"Yes!" Australia cheered, the koala on his back giving England a beady look.

"Ok, so, in most part of the world, the word refers to..." England explained the predicament, and noted the exact moment Australia realised the problem.

It was like he'd died inside, and when England stopped the explanation, Australia scrunched up his face and made a disgusted noise.

"The two aren't even anything alike, how-" He complained.

"I have no idea," England shook his head. "But now that that is over with, can we please get down to business?"

Australia nodded with relief that the topic was being swerved away from. The realisation at England's house would surely haunt him for the rest of his life.

Poor Australia.


	3. Just a Shadow (Angst, family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Context: This is going to have historical references, so sorry if I get anything wrong. I always had this idea that England would see a young Australia as just another America. They're both decently bubbly, loud, and confident, but I also believe that Australia would resent not being seen as his own person. I don't do angst very often, so PLEASE tell me if it's cringy, and how to help it not be.
> 
> If you don't want something sorta sad and angsty then feel free to wait for my next update, which I can promise will be light hearted. But if you don't...
> 
> Enjoy!

He was a menace and he knew it.

He used to be a lovely child, one that would find comfort in the presence of other people since he'd been alone for so long. He used to have wonder in his eyes at all the new things he would see at his caretakers house. He used to latch onto the empire's hand whenever they walked in a crowd, the busy streets sometimes frightened him. He used to listen to every word that left his superior's mouth, because surely he knew best.

Not anymore.

It didn't take long, really, and Australia would insist he wasn't rebelling; that it was just the way he was. England would insist he was tying to get away from him, just like everyone else.

The changes went unnoticed for a little while, the dirt on Australia's clothes even when England told him to stay inside, the missing cookies from the jar when no one was supposed to eat any, a few moved decorations from the living room when England had been specific about their placement.

Nothing that the empire couldn't ignore. Nothing that he couldn't stay silent about in the hopes history wouldn't repeat itself.

He'd been feeling particularly lawful as of late, and he chalked it up to shipping his convicts away. He failed however, to think of how his convicts would impact the smaller nation he brought under his care. That maybe, just maybe, a small bit of their mischief and chaos would fester in the green eyed boy.

No, definitely not. This boy was just like the last, and none of it was England's fault.

Australia tried hard to be as different from the memory as he could. When he heard that the blond before him hated England's food, he would eat it without question. When he was told they liked the violin, Australia would make a point to press his hands to his ears when he heard it. When he heard that boy had made England cry, Australia would give the empire gifts and cheer him up.

England would take a look at him sometimes and he would smile, laugh, shake a hand through his brown hair and say he was sweet for trying.

But his nature was his nature, and nothing he did would stop it.

He often found himself climbing the cupboards in the kitchen like they were trees, and he would almost forget that it was uncivilised. He would find rats and mice in the darkest wardrobes and hold them in his hands until he let them go outside, before he remembered it was dirty. He would stare for hours out the windows when he was supposed to be studying how to be a nation, after he would have to rush to catch up.

No matter what he did, he always seemed to disappoint.

England would snap at him when he did something wrong, saying he was just like the last one. Just like the one who'd left him without a second glance. Australia didn't want to be like that, but he couldn't help but remind the older nation of the bother who'd left him.

Slowly, Australia stopped trying. If all he was ever going to be was the shadow of America, then what could he do to change it?

It still hurt when England would compare them, use his name like an insult and hurl it at Australia. Ever since the gold rush, he'd been growing faster and England had been getting harsher. It was like his ageing was a bad thing, a scary monster England had already fought once and never wished to face again.

He'd met China once.

A lot of China's citizens were going over to Australia for the gold, and he thought it would be polite to meet him. Australia was cautious, sure a nation as old as China would mistake him for America too. It seemed only older countries would see the resemblance. England's brothers pointed it out all the time, yet Canada couldn't really see it.

So he'd been cold. Polite, but reserved. He didn't warm up to China until England told the man he should watch his back. That the gold in Australia would one day run out, and he wouldn't have him taking it all.

It wasn't a threat per say, but a hint that England would turn on anyone compromising his empire.

Australia didn't mind China from then on, since anyone who was under England's scrutiny, he could relate to. That didn't change how Australia acted however, but he didn't hate the idea of China's citizens traveling to him anymore.

When Australia wasn't being told off and given more restrictions, he was with his brother New Zealand. England would often leave him with his older brother, as if New Zealand were the only person that could ever deal with him. Australia hated being pushed aside, and when he wasn't he was being punished, but at least he was acknowledged then.

Australia and New Zealand would fight 80% of the time over the most petty things. Whether Koala's or sheep were cuter, whether Australia was taller, or about who was most annoying. None of it really mattered to them though.

They would fight, yes, but who didn't?

Maybe they'd be mad for a few minutes, but then they'd be back together again and not caring that it happened in the first place.

They moved on.

So they wondered why England could not.

Canada was rarely around, often off doing favours for England or spending time in his own house. When Canada was there however, at least the two Oceanic nations had someone to talk to other than themselves.

Once, England called New Zealand Canada.

New Zealand had thought of it as a small slip up, maybe even a compliment since he and Canada got on well enough, but Australia was filled with a sense of dread for the time when it became his turn.

When the insult that was America's name became his own.

England was at his harshest, even his people in Australia were cracking down on Aus' and China's citizens. Australia knew his people were starting to get fed up with the treatment and taxes and laws. He knew it was only a mater of time before they staged something big.

He knew it wouldn't be long before England had reason to call him a rebellious, good for nothing, ungrateful nation.

Australia had been reading a book of English poetry, filling out a small questionnaire along the way. He had woken up on the wrong side of the bed as it was, and so it seemed, had England. Australia's pencil on the paper filled the large living room with a constant scratching.

England had walked in, and Australia immediately felt the space fill with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. It was a long time coming, they were just waiting to see who would set it off. They were collecting gun powder in the barrel, and both had a lighter, but neither moved to set it aflame.

Looking back on it, neither would remember what started the argument. They'd exchanged a few words, a clipped tone from England, a detached response that lacked it's usual bounce from Australia.

"You're doing it like a five year old." England had taken a look at the words written on the worksheet and frowned.

Australia had levelled him with a neutral stare, but the annoyance in his eyes kept it from being polite, "and? I'm doing it, aren't I?"

England caught the underlying tone and snapped something back, about behaviour and responsibility.

"Yes, England," Australia grit his teeth, the dismissal a jab at the elder.

The restrained anger in Australia's voice ignited a flame in England, one that urged him to bite back, and bite back hard.

It escalated from there, starting as a few cutting remarks that danced around the real problem then dissolved into unintelligible shouting.

They had both had enough, and neither knew who lit that barrel of gunpowder, but it exploded none-the-less.

The anger was like a tightening fist, a balloon inside it squeezed harder and harder, waiting to be popped. Red appeared on their faces, spit flew, faces contorted to angry stone gargoyles protecting their owners from the truth the other sprouted. Words were exchanged like flying fists, and not a punch was wasted.

"Stop treating me like some stupid child!" Australia cried.

"You are a child, and you'd do well to listen to me!" England shot back.

They were too deep into the sound of their own voices, no other noise penetrated their heads. Australia felt hot boiling anger, worse than his bushfires, rise up under his skin, praying for release.

For England, it was a repeat of many years ago. The same words, the same argument, the same outcome, the same blinding fury.

"Stop treating me like a child England!" America had shouted.

"You are a child, and you will do well to listen to me!" He'd shouted back.

"I can make my own decisions!" Australia didn't remember standing, but he was now.

"While you are my colony you will treat me with respect!" England commanded.

"You can't push me around England!" America had slammed a hand onto the table that night.

"You have no idea what I do for you, I am your brother!" England had spat back.

"I'm not just a colony to batter around, I am a nation in my own right!" Australia slammed a hand onto the desk, just like the other had.

"You have no idea what it's like out there, I'm doing this for you! You are a part of the British empire whether you like it or not!" England seethed, face red with anger.

"So stop pushing me around and forcing all your taxes on me! I am my own person!" America had taken a step forward.

"I am doing this for the better, you're not the centre of the world! You are a part of my empire, whether you like it or not" England had taken one too.

Australia was filled with a rage he'd suppressed for so long and it took the reins of his words, forcing them to pour out faster. There was no filter between his emotions and his mouth, and he wondered what he was even saying anymore. He was so, so mad.

What right did England have to speak to him that way? What made him think Australia was less than him. The British empire wasn't anything special, and he'd rather be anyone else colony if it meant being away from the green-eyed nation.

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could check their weight, and the release felt like the explosion of a hot, lava filled, volcano.

"Well if this is the British empire, then I want out!" Australia screamed.

"I don't want to be a part of your stupid empire!" America screamed.

In that sentence, England could no longer separate Australia from America in the red haze of his anger and hurt.

They were so, so similar.

"JUST SHUT UP AMERICA!" He cried.

Australia froze in place.

It seemed his time had come, the name was used and there was no going back. All he was to England was another America. Another shadow to hold the past against. He was never his own person, never anything but a replacement or a reminder. He was doomed to be the second America, such as New Zealand was doomed to be the second Canada.

Why?

Why was it like this?

It hurt to be compared to someone he could never live up to, to be compared to someone who hurt his own family. It was twisted that England branded him as the boy who'd left him, even before Australia had ever rebelled. He wanted to be seen as someone other than America, he wanted to be seen as another person.

He never wanted to be a shadow.

Australia knew his eyes had been stinging for a while, but in the silence that followed England's outburst, he was painfully reminded.

England looked shocked, but Australia wasn't even surprised. England looked like he wanted to take it back, his hand was covering his mouth and his eyes were wide.

He looked ashamed.

He should.

Australia couldn't hold up the expectation to be America anymore, he couldn't keep living with England's hurt gaze telling him he was just another disappointment. Even when America's name was used as a compliment, it turned sour because of what he eventually did.

Australia never hated anyone, it was a skill he'd perfected over the years. He never compared others out loud because he knew it lead to pain. He never saw anyone as anything but a person by themselves, because he wished he could be treated the same.

England saw him as America?

Well he was wrong.

"I'm not-" Australia stopped when his tight throat threatened to cut him off first. "I'm not him. I'm a different person. I'm Australia, no matter what you say."

England swallowed thickly, and opened his mouth to speak, but Australia was already walking past him.

"I'm not him." Australia looked to the ground.

He was done fighting, he was done screaming, he was done with the game of cat and mice. He couldn't force England to see him as he was, but he could make sure no one ever made the mistake again.

"I won't fight you."

He had just then, and it ended with them more broken then before. If he wanted his freedom, if he ever wanted out, he wouldn't fight England. He would tell him what he wanted and he wouldn't flinch if he said no. He would stand his ground and he would get his vision realised, but he wouldn't raise his fist.


	4. I Hate You Too (Humour, fluff, family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back at it again with the fluff!
> 
> This one is about some brotherly New Zealand and Australia because I love them so much. I'm not sure on how I did with portraying New Zealand, but I'd imagine he'd get fed up with Australia really quick because they're always having some sort of squabble.
> 
> I hope you can enjoy!

No way in hell was he doing it.

Nope, nope, nopety nope, nope.

No.

"C'mon Zea!" The childish voice egged him on, the sound coming from far above.

"No way," New Zealand gave his brother an unimpressed look. "You're going to fall and die, and I'd rather not go down with you."

Australia giggled like the kid he was, looking to be about eight at most. His older brother New Zealand had always been the party pooper, preferring to stay safe and enjoy things that Aus deemed exceedingly boring. Like read and pet sheep.

"I won't fall," Australia insisted, shuffling further to the front of his branch. "Plus, England-brows said we can't die!"

"Just because he said we can't die, doesn't mean we can't feel pain," Zea countered. "Plus, I'd rather not experience it."

"Aww, c'mon, live a little!" Australia reached his hand out and grabbed the branch over his head.

The wind was really picking out in England's back yard, and the rain that had been pouring in the wee hours of the morning left everything damp. Aus and Zea had gone out to fly kites in the howling air, but they'd gotten stuck in the old oak tree. New Zealand insisted they go inside and get a new one, like any rational person, but Australia took it as the perfect opportunity to have some fun.

"I'm living perfectly happily on the ground," New Zealand huffed, light brown curls ravelling and unraveling in the wind.

"Yeah, but it's so much better up here!" Australia grinned back.

He was so close to the blue and red paper, it was only a few branches above his head, but it was near the thin end, so he'd have to be careful. Australia felt the wind rustle up the branches and decided to latch onto a few until the breeze went away.

The shaking of the tree created some tension in New Zealand. He watched nervously as Australia paused his quest to wait for it to pass.

At least he's got some common sense.

"Australia, come down, its not worth it."

New Zealand insisted, eyes darting nervously to the back door of England's house.

"I'm so close though," Australia whined, opting to keep trying to get the kite, even if the wind kept up.

Australia was a little worried, but not too much. Climbing trees and being outdoors was his thing, he was like a koala. A feisty, cute, funny, little koala. He wished he had a koala with him now that he thought about it.

He would name it Steve.

Yes, Steve the koala would be his best friend too! They'd go on so many adventures and rile up Zea together too. It would be so much fu-

"Aus, look out!" New Zealand interrupted Australia's wandering thoughts with his worried cry.

Australia quickly grabbed a hold of the branch above him in a tight grip, just in case he got caught off balance as the wind picked up violently. It was starting to sting, the cold air lashing at his face with the leaves it battered against. Maybe it was best to go down like Zea had said.

Australia slowly made his way downwards, keeping as close to the trunk of the tree as humanly (or nationaly) possible. He knew something was wrong however, when his foot hit a thinner branch. Anyone with two eyes could see what was going to happen.

The branch snapped under foot and Australia tumbled the last couple meters to the ground with a large thump.

Stupid tree branch.

"Aus, are you ok?!" New Zealand ran up to him and kneeled down.

"Yeah, I'll be right!" Australia shot him a grin, but winced at his scraped leg.

It wasn't bad, but it hurt. Suddenly he was very glad that he hadn't fallen and died like Zea had predicted.

"You're such an idiot sometimes," Mew Zealand offered his younger brother a hand.

"Most of the time," Australia smirked.

"All of the time." New Zealand rolled his eyes.

"True that mate," Australia grinned, taking the hand and leaving his weight on his better leg.

After a moment of steeling himself, Australia walked side-by-side with New Zealand to the house. As they were about to enter the back doorway, they heard a massive rustle of leaves and turned their heads to see their kite break free of the tree and start flying away. Australia laughed in amusement before taking after it with a small limp.

"Damn that stupid Aussie," New Zealand muttered with little of the contempt, taking off after him.

"I bet I can catch it first sheep lover!" Australia shouted back to his brother.

"No way you death trap!"

"Yes way, kiwi!"

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-huh."

"Nuh-uh"

"Y- hey!" Australia tripped over his feet and saw Zea pass him and jump for the kite, catching it by he string.

"I win!" New Zealand beamed.

Australia pouted, "No fair!"

"It is fair, I got it first." he nudged his brother in the side.

"I hate you." Australia said, although New Zealand knew under his annoyed huff was a smile.

"I hate you too Aus." New Zealand said lovingly, hugged his brown haired companion tight.

Brotherly hate, what a wonderful thing.


	5. Brothers (Humour, family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and welcome back again!
> 
> I was confused about the ages of Australia and New Zealand so I decided to look it up, and google said that NZ was discovered first by the British, then Australia. I was surprised, since in all the fics about the two, Aus would be older, and I guess google could just be lying to me, but that's why I've made him older in my one-shots.
> 
> Anyway, context: I've always had this idea that Canada and NZ would bond over complaining about their brothers but ultimately couldn't stay mad for too long.
> 
> I hope it's funny enough to give you a laugh!

Canada and New Zealand were no strangers to annoying brothers. Both had one, and both were periodically pissed off by them. They loved their brothers, no doubt about it, but sometimes all they wanted to do was hit them over the head with Russia's pipe of pain.

Australia and America were sitting next to each other in the world meeting and talking rather loudly to each other with animated movements and expressions. Multiple times, Germany would look over in their direction and his eye would twitch before he decided they weren't worth his time shutting up.

"I hate him." Canada mumbled, a frown on his lips as he looked at America across from him.

"I know the feeling," New Zealand agreed, getting a little guilty he forgot Canada was sitting next to him.

"He's so annoying," Canada sighed.

"And obnoxious," New Zealand gave Australia a look that his brother was blind to.

"And egotistical."

"And oblivious."

"And always eating."

New Zealand groaned and leaned forward in his seat, a memory digging up in his head. One time Australia had challenged him to a pie eating contest and from that day forth he could never look at one the same.

"He's always chasing after some animal."

"He doesn't know when to shut his mouth."

"He has no concept of personal space."

"I'm always mistaken for him."

"He claims he made pavlova, the liar."

"How can he not get hockey?"

"Some people think I'm a part of him, like a colony."

"Someone said I was his hat."

The two weren't even looking at each other as they complained about their brothers, like there was a mutual agreement to just let all their annoyances out with no judgment. Finally, the two nations across from them turned around and noticed their brothers giving them looks.

Australia grinned at Zea and waved cheerfully while America gave Canada a one-sided air high five.

"At least his heart's in the right place," Canada sighed.

"I suppose it's fun playing sports with him." New Zealand confessed.

"It's not too bad when we watch movies together."

"He's not horrible when we cook."

"One time he spent half an hour gawking at a moose, it was kind of adorable."

"I once spotted him cuddling with one of my sheep and he fell asleep."

Their annoyed looks turned softer, and both let out a heavy sigh.

"I wish I could stay mad at him." New Zealand said.

"I guess that's the downside of being their brothers." Canada shook his head.

As they watched their brothers get told off by Germany and lectured about etiquette, the two laughed good naturally at their expense, and couldn't help thinking that the downside of being their brothers could be counted as an upside.


	6. Hugs Hide Idiots (Humour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm really spamming the chapters out aren't I? Sorry if they're dropping in quality or don't seem as funny, I'm writing them as soon as I gather an idea and I hope to have a more fleshed out one soon.
> 
> Context: I've always thought it would be funny if America and Australia would get up to a whole heap of trouble in world meetings together, with most of it centring around messing with big bro England.
> 
> But all that aside, I hope you like it!

England was quickly beginning to think that the world meetings were just to keep them occupied while their bosses went out and did important stuff. They never got anything done, they never came up with anything useful, and half the time people were too busy with petty squabbles to pay attention.

England was caught off guard when two arms wrapped around his chest from behind. His first thought was America, but he'd probably be yelling in his ear while the mystery person wasn't.

"Hey England," Australia said cheerfully.

England's sighed, the mystery arms belonging to none other than his previous colony. England leaned his head back into Aus' shoulder and looked at his face. Australia was grinning at him, and never let go of the hug.

"Why are you hugging me?" England asked, but didn't remove him.

"Because I can?" Australia's eyes darted behind him.

England shuffled in his seat, "Okay, what's the catch?"

"No catch." Australia kept a hold of him.

Now England normally wasn't one for hugs, but he could appreciate one once in a while. However this 'long hug' was quickly becoming an 'awkwardly long' hug. England looked to Aus suspiciously and then to the rest of the nations in the room. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, but England would keep his eyes pealed.

"Are you... okay?" England asked, wondering if the hug symbolised something wrong.

"Hmm? Yeah!" Australia said cheerfully.

England accepted the response, taking it upon himself to search the meeting again. He felt as though something was off. It was kind of quiet, if you could ever call it that. When it finally hit England why, he immediately knew why Australia was hugging him.

"Australia?" England said, unimpressed.

"Yeah?" He smiled at him.

"If I break this hug and look behind me I won't see America putting a spider in my briefcase will I?" England sighed.

"... No..." Australia looked behind him to glance at America holding a glass jar with a spider in it, frozen as he was about to open the lid and set it free over England's stuff.

"And I suppose you haven't tied up New Zealand to prevent him from stopping you?" England continued.

"Yeah, nah..." Australia denied, looking at a peeved New Zealander in the corner.

"Okay then, so you wouldn't mind letting go now so I can collect my stuff?" England had him there.

"Uhhh," Australia paused.

He then quickly let go of England and ran off to America, yelling, "Abort mission!"

England sighed as the two former colonies scrambled away, America accidentally breaking the glass jar and setting loose the strange Australian spider. He ignored the numerous frightened shouts in favour of being the only nation in the entire meeting to listen to Russia's presentation. It wasn't his problem that America had a spider crawling up his arm and Australia was too busy laughing to help him. Hungary eventually squashed the spider with her frying pan, hitting America in the shoulder in the process.

How were those two idiots fully fledged countries?


	7. A Bit Too Similar (Humour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, another massive thanks, and another one-shot!
> 
> Context: It's obvious that Austria and Australia have very similar spelling, and apparently my auto-correct can't tell the difference. I also noticed that they're kind of (don't quote me on this) similar looking from far away, and thus I decided that some mistakes would eventually be made.
> 
> This one is rated for teen and up audiences for innuendos, so if you're uncomfortable with this, feel free to skip it.
> 
> Enjoy!

The most awesome being in the existence of time was grinning. And not your average grin. It was the biggest, most mischievous, most shit-eating grin to ever grace someone's face.

And that meant trouble.

Prussia, otherwise known as 'the most awesome me' by himself, had come across a very incriminating photo of his favourite mole-faced nation. It was like April fools all over again, but this time he was the one holding all the power.

Prussia had printed off the photo from the computer and was walking down one of the world meeting halls in an especially happy mood. Gilbird rested happily in his hair, sometimes cheeping or ruffling his feathers happily. The world meeting had ended a few minutes prior to Prussia's quest to find the Austrian, and he was hoping to cross him in the halls close to the exit.

His excitement led to fantasies of what he would force Austria to do to get his picture back. Most involved being his servant for a week and the various things Prussia would purposely break to get on his nerves, but there were a few that went more along the lines of revealing more deep, dark secrets.

Or letting him set his precious piano on fire.

Prussia was so deep in thought he almost missed the very nation he was looking for. He caught sight of brown hair and a stubborn cowlick turn a corner and he was off like lightening. He bumped into a few people as he sprinted, but he called over his shoulder a few sorries and ignored the not so polite responses he got back.

"Ah, Prussia that hurt!"

"Watch where you're going, git!"

"I swear I'll hit you with my peace prize!"

"Bruder, where are you going?"

"I have a frying pan with your name on it Prussia!"

Prussia just laughed it off, making a bee-line for the figure who just walked out one of the exits. It was odd, however, that the Austrian was wearing a white button up shirt instead of his signature purple jacket, and Prussia could have sworn he'd seen him in it previous. Before Prussia could make any connections though, he'd caught up to what he presumed was Austria and had swung him around, photo pressed into the nation's face.

The man gave a startled noise, but the photo Prussia pressed into his face muffled the noise. The awesome ex-nation laughed and removed the photo so it was far enough away that Austria could see it as he monologued.

"HA, bow down to the awesome me, Austria," he grinned. "If you ever want this photo back, you have to do whatever I say!"

"Um, you got the wrong country, mate," came an awkward and shocked response that Prussia was not ready for.

Prussia moved the photo out of his field of vision and got a good look at the man he'd cornered. The guy was similar looking to Austria, but a lot different up closer. He bore a bandaid over his nose, had two cowlicks instead of one, and his eyes were a vivid green coupled with the large eyebrows that marked him as family with England. The nation in front of Prussia looked scarred for life, and a red blush on his cheeks was shining through his sun-tanned skin, which could only be from seeing the photo that was definitely not meant for him.

"Oh, damn, haha, whoops," Prussia coughed awkwardly

"I was not meant to see that," Australia looked like he needed some bleach to pour in his eyes. Or to drink.

"Yeah, that was for Austria," Prussia looked away.

Well that was not the meeting Prussia had expected.

"I'm sorry-"

"That was-"

The two spoke at the same time before looking each other dead in the eyes and coming to some sort of mutual agreement.

"I never saw that," Australia said.

"I never showed it too you," Prussia agreed.

"I will now leave, and forget this ever happened, deal?" Australia held out his hand.

"Definitely," Prussia shook it.

Australia walked away and tried to come up with the best method of washing his eyes out, because that was a picture that could never be unseen. He decided that maybe gouging his eyes out was a little extreme, and that seventy two hours of binge watching Kath and Kim while neglecting all his responsibilities would be a suitable replacement.

"Poor Austria..."

Somewhere in the distance, the sound of piano keys being abruptly slammed followed by an ear piercing shriek was heard.

"PRUSSIA!"


	8. Protector of Innocence (Humour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, this one's short and doesn't need much context. I came up with this one when thinking about something protective and brotherly for New Zealand to do, but failed miserably and went:
> 
> Hey, what about talking to France?
> 
> It's kind of protective, but in other ways, so I guess I still accomplished my mission?
> 
> This is rated T for innuendoes, so if you are uncomfortable with this, feel free to skip.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

"I had the best night last night, mes ami!" France said dreamily.

In this week's world meeting, New Zealand and Australia were seated to the left of France, the country of love and many other devious things. Australia looked over to New Zealand and saw him politely smiling at France, as always. Australia wished he could smile without looking like he was up to something.

New Zealand was the picture of polite, kind and demure at any situation other than talking to Australia. It was sort of scary how his older brother could just not crack jokes and mess up the meeting like Aus. Come on, it's too funny not to sometimes.

Like the time he walked in wearing crocs and France fainted. That was fun.

"Oh, she was beautiful!" France continued to gush, stars were practically sparkling in his blue eyes. "She was so kind and humorous too, the perfect girl inside and out!"

Australia listened along with Zea, wondering if France had a point to his story. What could have possibly been so great with his date? He was half-heatedly nodding, but France didn't seem to mind.

"But the best part was when we went home," France grinned and looked off into the distance absently, "you should have seen her. The things we did, were like-"

Suddenly Australia couldn't hear what France was saying, even though the nation's mouth was still moving. Australia's eyebrows furrowed in confusion until he realised two hands were over his ears.

Australia tilted his head back to see New Zealand's light curls. His brother was still nodding along politely to France, completely ignoring the fact he was covering Aus' ears.

France looked back over to see the scene and paused his talking. He felt a shift behind him in Zea's general direction and France smirked before continuing. Australia was a little peeved that he couldn't tell what was going on, but instead of removing New Zealand's hands, he played his own guessing game.

France had a massive grin on his face and kept looking to Australia in some sort of amusement. The older nation took it upon himself to help a brother out and start making very animated hand movements that Aus was sure would help him figure it out. They were mostly jerky and involved both hands, but he couldn't for the life of him work out what he was talking about.

It seemed he was bad at this game.

When France was done talking, New Zealand removed his hands from his younger brother's ears and settled back into his chair like nothing happened. He glanced at Australia's confused expression and sighed.

"What was that for?" Australia asked.

New Zealand looked in France's direction who was laughing at England's red face, "your innocence."

The cogs in Australia's head started turning, and New Zealand almost cracked up at the intense thinking expression.

Australia still didn't get it.


	9. Don't Mock The Eyebrows (Humour, crack?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Context: I have this head cannon that both Australia and New Zealand are sensitive about their eyebrows, much like I always thought England would be. Plus it's cold where I live right now and cold+ hetalia obsession= Russia.
> 
> So here we go, a new chapter featuring everyone's favourite magic metal pipe of pain wilding nation!
> 
> Enjoy.

Australia didn't get scared by many things. Granted, his country being the epicentre of all things deadly may attribute to that, but all in all, he believed himself near fearless. Now, those who knew him would probably say otherwise, and that what he called 'fearless' was actually reckless abandon.

Oh well.

His courage would be tested though, when he was seated next to the one and only Russia. Now, Australia didn't exactly fear the man, in fact, Australia saw him as a decent kind of guy. It's when Russia's reputation was introduced to him that he started to feel very uncomfortable sitting next to the scarf-clad male.

"So, Australia?" The voice from beside him said.

Australia jumped a little (not a foot out his seat, definitely not), and turned his head with an uneasy chuckle.

"Yeah, that's me, mate." He gave an unsteady smile.

Russia could probably sense fear.

Russia stared intently at Australia's face for a while before smiling, "Ah, you are one of England's, aren't you? I almost forgot."

Australia coughed awkwardly, "Yeah I was."

"Do you know how I could tell?" Russia looked very excited about telling him.

Australia hesitated for a bit before caving, "Sure, go for it."

"The eyebrows," Russia smirked.

Australia's face fell into poorly masked irritation.

"Yep, that's most people's clue-in." He coughed.

"True, how could it not be, da?" Russia smiled, and Australia knew, he knew that Russia was doing this for fun. "They are ginormous, almost as big as England's."

Australia's eye twitched a bit, "Uh-huh, that they are mate."

"I'm surprised you are not mad at him for passing on such hairy caterpillars. I would be." Russia kept that smile on his face, and boy was Australia getting annoyed.

Reputation be damned, he was getting mad at the intimidating nation.

"Well at least I don't have a nose the size of Europe." Australia said, cheeks red from embarrassment and anger.

Russia chuckled, "Oh yes it is, but I do not mind, everything about me is large."

Australia gave him a wary look, eyes darting to France for a second.

"Doesn't your brother also have the-" Russia started.

"Yep."

"Oh, what about your micro-nat-"

"They do."

"What bad luck," Russia seemed delighted.

Australia sent the back of England's head a look, as if to say 'this is your fault.'

"Hmm, have you tried waxing them?" Russia asked.

It was obvious at this point that Russia took amusement in Australia's suffering. Aus thought the nation was going to be causing him pain in the physical sense, not in the sense that he was trying very hard not to chuck a boomerang at his head.

"Yes," Australia shuddered at the memory. That was a story for another time.

"Have you tried plucking them?" Russia innocently smiled.

"Yes."

"Shaving them?"

"More than once."

"Burning them off?"

"Tried it."

Russia chuckled, "I am having a lot of fun with this guessing game."

'I'm glad someone is,' Australia thought.

"Okay, have you tried a magic demon ritua-"

"I did, it didn't go well."

Russia laughed again, "It seems you have thought of everything."

"Unfortunately," Australia admitted.

"You seem uncomfortable," Russia noted. "Are your eyebrows a sensitive topic?"

"Pshh, no." Australia denied.

"Are you so sure?" Russia tilted his head to the side. "You are red."

Australia pressed a hand to his burning cheek. "It's hot in here."

"You are sitting beside the coldest nation in this room." Russia pointed out.

"... Okay, you got me there."

"You know what I think you should do?" Russia's eyes glinted with something dark.

"U-um, what?" Australia didn't like the look.

"You should get him back for landing you with such disfigurement."

"Okay, thats taking it a bit far, mate," Australia grumbled. "They're not that bad."

"I suggest locking him in the kitchen with France," Russia said.

As fun as that would be, Australia didn't want to prank someone with Russia. Who knew how it would go?

"Y-yeah, great suggestion." Australia said awkwardly, looking with Russia to see the two other nations fighting about something.

"Oh, and another thing." Russia turned his eyes to Australia.

"Y-yeah?" Australia was not stuttering nervously.

"Become one with mother Russia, da?"


	10. Drinking Age (Humour, friendship)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, hey, hi, what's another way to say hello? Uhh, Ciao? G'day? Guten tag? Halo? Ok, now that's done, I've got another update!
> 
> Context: In case you didn't know, the legal drinking age in America is 21 and in Australia it's 18…
> 
> You see where I'm going here?
> 
> Okay, if not, you've got the whole one-shot to get it!
> 
> Credit for the idea goes to a tumblr post, which I feel guilty admitting and promise to not use again. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"Dude, why is it so hot!" America complained, stripping off his cardigan.

"'Cause it's summer." Australia laughed.

"No, it was winter when I left my place," America whined, before realisation dawned on his face. "Oh, your place is all upside down, right? So that's why you were so weirded out by a snowing Christmas!"

"You're partly right, so I'll give it to ya," Australia chuckled.

"Good." America leant his hands on his knees. "Can we take a break?"

"C'mon, we can go to a pub not far from here," Australia nodded his head down the street.

When America came for the visit, his place was in the middle of it's winter, so he'd taken to packing only colder weather clothes. The consequence was him feeling cheated and incredibly sweaty as they walked out from America's hotel. They decided that America couldn't really stay in Australian summer without any summer clothes, so they started walking the short (long) distance to Australia's house.

"Uh, Aus-" America was about to protest, but was dragged in by the shirt.

The pub was decent, nothing stingy. It had a wooden, homey feel to it, the bar table was made of dark mahogany and the tables and chairs fitted to match with their matte black surfaces. The air was blissfully cold and America sighed as it cooled his hot cheeks.

"Can we just stay in here forever?" America asked. "Please?"

"We have to go out again to get you some clothes, mate." Australia chuckled, sitting himself down at a bar stool with America plopping down next to him. "Besides, you don't want to stay in here too long unless you're planning on getting wasted."

America eyed him suspiciously, "You do realise I left my wallet at the hotel, right?"

Australia shrugged, "No problems, I can pay."

"It has my ID."

"And?"

"Umm, I don't know how to break it to you, but I don't exactly look as old as you."

"And?" Australia then smacked his head, "Oh I forgot your drinking age was twenty one."

"What do you mean, forgot my drinking age was twenty one, what's yours?" America asked, bewildered.

Australia ordered two beers before turning back and smirking, "Eighteen. So how's that freedom feeling now?"

"Hey," America frowned, a pout making it's way to his face, "I just I want my citizens to have a fully developed brain before they get to destroy it, unlike you, who obviously doesn't have your citizen's health in mind."

Australia laughed, "Clam down mate, have a drink." He paused, smirking again, "Oh wait."

Australia was then hit over the head with a beer bottle by an angry American.


	11. The Talk (Humour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! How's your day been?
> 
> Context: This has no time-line, but assume Australia's still a little kid and we've got papa England with him! Judging from the title, I'm sure you can gather what this one is about.
> 
> Enjoy!

England coughed as he waved his arm in front of his face. The black pouring smoke made way for his hand as he cautiously picked his way into the kitchen. A rancid and burnt smell filled the house, so the nation opened a window and guided the smog out with a towel. His apron was soiled with black stains, scattered with suspicious red splotches, and covered in a fine layer of flour.

All in all, not his worst dinner.

After the white tiled room was clear of noxious gasses, England sighed, looking regretfully at the oven. He'd have to either buy a new one again or use magic to fix it up. The last time he used magic lead to a nightmare he'd rather forget. So England made a note on his to-do list about getting another. That meant bad things for his pride, but compared to the sleepless night the last disaster clean-up got him, he'd take it.

England ran a hand through his ingredient covered hair before resigning himself to collecting whatever monstrosity he'd created in the oven. England wished for the millionth time that he'd remembered to bring a hazmat suit.

As the nation carefully extracted the… thing, he was startled by a voice- when he was almost completely sure anyone in a five mile radius would avoid the kitchen.

"Hey England?"

England cursed as dropped the severely burnt… food, to the ground in surprise. Upon impact with the floor, a black cloud of dust rose into the air and sent the two into another coughing fit. England could have sworn the smoke formed a skull.

"Should I come back later or?" Australia's nose wrinkled at the mangled thing on the floor.

"No, no, it's fine," England sighed, "I'll do that later."

England slipped off the apron and tossed it on the counter, a tired look in his eyes as he left the room. He wasn't even angry that he'd messed up his cooking again, he was 80% sick of it, and 20% annoyed.

"Do you want me to cook next time?" Australia asked, wide green eyes glinting with the slightest hint of teasing.

England frowned, "Absolutely not."

Australia snickered, sure to have another quip on the tip of his tongue, but the elder nation cut it off.

"What was it that you wanted to ask me before?" England pinned Australia with a stare.

"Oh, that," Australia looked at England expectantly. "Well, y'see, I was-"

"'You see'- 'not y'see'." England corrected.

"Sorry," Australia conceded. "Do you want to go sit down somewhere?"

"Sure…"

England was increasingly sure Australia had burnt one of his cities to the ground and was trying to break it to him.

Why else would he ask England to sit down if not to give him a running start should he be chased around the house.

England already had a stack of memorised lectures ready in the event that was the case. Living with Australia taught him to have a few on stand-by. He would run down the normal one about responsibility, respect, and maybe throw in a bit about how he'd end up causing doomsday, but England wanted to save the majority of that one… Just in case.

"If you're going to tell me you've broken or destroyed something important, let me get my tea first." England said, walking away and grabbing a pre-prepared tray.

Australia laughed nervously and England resisted the urge to bash his head against the wall.

"It's nothing like that, England," Australia assured him.

"Sure..." England wasn't convinced.

The British Empire settled down on a chair at the table, signalling for Aus to do the same. Australia's face settled with an unusual determination and curiosity that England didn't take a liking too. It made him a little worried and more than a bit nervous.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" England asked, bringing the the cup to his lips.

Australia shifted in his seat a bit before meeting England's eyes.

"Where do nations come from?"

England spat out his tea.

Australia was startled by the spray of scolding liquid coming his way, but his small body ducked under the table just in time to avoid being soaked. His wide green eyes poked up under the cloth as England choked and spluttered.

"You ok, England?" Australia said in concern.

England didn't answer, instead opting to stop himself coughing his lungs up. As he looked over to Australia's innocent expression, he made up his mind.

"You are way too young to know such things," England decreed, pink cheeks hot for multiple reasons.

"What, why?" Australia looked insistent. "We have to come from somewhere."

England went redder, "W-well of course, b-but you're too young to know."

Australia tilted his head, "Why?"

"J-just because," England stood up, flustered.

"But why England?" The little nation said, standing up with the other.

"I just told you, it's because I said so." England needed an escape plan.

"But Englaaaaaand!" Australia whined, tugging on his shirt.

The elder nation debated whether jumping out the window was too extreme, but saw no other escape option that Australia wouldn't follow.

"England, c'mon, England, I just wanna know!" Australia continued.

England saw in dismay, that there were no windows nearby.

"Enough, Australia, you're too young to know how babies are made."

Australia paused.

"How babies are made?" Australia said in confusion. "I said how nations are made."

"I said no Australia and that's- wait what?" England blinked a few times.

"I want to know how nations are born. We aren't humans, so there must be some sort of strange mumbo-jumbo going on." Australia pouted, annoyed.

"Oh," England sighed in relief, "I thought- well never mind."

"You don't need to worry about telling me how human babies are made," Australia shrugged.

"One day I will, but thankfully today is not that day."

England felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He could admit that he was not ready to give Australia the talk after the disaster that happened with America. He was one to think he learnt by mistakes, and that mistake was one he never wanted to repeat. If he was truly being honest, had Australia persisted, he may have called France. May have.

"No day is that day England," Australia said casually, "Canada all ready told me."

If England had tea in his mouth, he would have spat it again.

"C-Canada what?!" England screeched in alarm.

"Told me that normal people do the nasty to have kids," Australia scrunched up his nose. "It didn't sound very nice, but if you really wanted children, I suppose it would be worth it."

England's brain was having a hard time processing what as being said, and left him standing there with his eye twitching and an existential crisis on the horizon.

"Canada said it's supposed to be a love thing, and that many would say it was beautiful, but it sounded gross," Australia continued. "I guess that's his opinion, but to me it's icky."

To say England was teetering on the edges of re-evaluating his entire life and hell-fire anger was an accurate statement.

"I guess France made it sound less disgusting when he told Canada," Australia rambled. "Because-"

"Did you say France?" England snapped out of his daze with the mention of the other nation.

"Yeah, he's the one who told Canada in the first place." Australia told him.

Something clicked inside Englands brain as he begun striding down the hallway with renewed purpose.

"England?" Australia said, confused. "What's going on?"

England lifted a coat onto his shoulders and unlocked the door. His mind was surprisingly cleared of distress, and one thought stuck out vivid red against the white backdrop.

England tossed the keys to Australia and opened the door, "I won't be back for some while, Australia, don't unlock the door for anyone, especially my brothers."

"Why?" Australia asked.

England turned back to him, and Australia almost shrunk away from the murderous glint in his eyes.

"I have a frog to dissect."


	12. Butcher The Language (Humour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back!
> 
> Context: Okay, this was born out of me realising that Australia murders England's lovely language more than America.
> 
> And he knows it.
> 
> I hope I got all the slang roughly right, and I had to do 'extensive research' to make sure it was vaguely correct. I have never heard about half of the words used in this before, so if you have and it's wrong, please tell me.
> 
> Enjoy!

Once again, England was left speechless.

It happened more often than he cared to admit, but there were times in his long life where he would feel the need to re-think every choice he'd ever made. Every word he'd ever spoken, every action he'd ever done, and ever person he'd ever met.

Usually this intense thinking came around two specific people. A french frog who never seemed to stop hopping around a pond that wasn't his, and boisterous American who didn't know when to shut his mouth. Don't get England wrong, it wasn't like their very presence set him into a crisis (except France), but it was moments where he felt the intense need hit his head repeatedly on a brick wall.

Such as this moment.

"Y'ain't gonna be 'dere?" America enunciated every abbreviation with painful clarity.

England shuddered.

"Daww, and 'ere I 'ought ya wouldn't bail on meh." America held a smug grin as he wrapped an arm around England's shoulders.

If anyone cared to look at England, one would see a man praying for a quick and painless death to end his suffering.

And the man who looked was none other than Australia.

England felt his hopes wither away.

"What's going on here?" Australia grinned at the two.

"Oh please lord no," England groaned.

It seemed his prayers were ignored.

"I was just talkin' ta England 'bout goin' ta da bar later, bu' he said nope." America winked to Australia, who seemed to get the hint.

"Oi then, if we're going to the bottle-o for some grog we should stop at the servo before-hand for durries or the like, don't 'cha think?" Australia said.

"I don't even know if this is English anymore." England said, soul leaving his body.

America looked a little confused, but in much more cheerful spirits now that Australia had joined in on the agonising torture of their former care-taker.

"Defs."

England let out a noise akin to a dying animal.

Was this his karma for all his misdeeds? Was this what the universe deemed his sacrifice to be for all his wrong-doings? Every bad, terrible, evil, thing he'd ever done was being weighed on him at once, in the most gut wrenching, stomach churning, painfully agonising way possible.

By utterly destroying the english language.

"Oh yeah, but we should probs go back to our bungalow's to change into tracky dacks so we don' soil anything good getting maggoted. Streuth, if you guys want we could barrel on to my place and snack on fairy bread, chips, an' tucker in the bush?"

"Umm," America squinted.

'Oh here we go,' England thought.

"What'dya say mates, I can make a quick stop at woolies for ya."

America was starting to look more frightened than confused.

England took a small grain of satisfaction from the fact that America was being bested at his own game. If only he knew the scary power Australia held in his slang.

"Nah, on second though, tha's too complicated, why don't we just go for a Macca's run?"

America gulped, "What's Macca's?"

"MacDonalds, mate." Australia tilted his head to the side.

England smirked with dark pleasure at the light leave America's eyes. It was as if someone had drained his entire will to live in three seconds flat with the abomination that was the word, 'Macca's'.

"Oh sweet Jesus," America muttered, looking betrayed, terrified and pale.

"I warned you." England said.

Oh, he was starting to enjoy this.

If he pretended that Australia was somehow speaking another language, he could bare it just enough to enjoy America's suffering.

"I can go on, America," Australia offered with an oblivious smile.

"Oh please, lord no!" America cried, hiding behind England.

"20 bucks says you keep at it for another hour," England said.

"Deal."

And so England left with the sweet sound of American shrieks in his ears.


	13. An American's Revenge (Humour, crack)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> This one isn't as funny as I wanted it to be, but I've had a few things backing up lately and really just wanted something written in time, so sorry if it's not up to scratch.
> 
> Context: This is a slight continuation from the last chapter. In which America enacts revenge.
> 
> Enjoy!

Australia was known for being laid-back. Maybe a bit careless, responsibly avoiding, absent minded, and-

You get the point.

So naturally, it was hard to get the man decently angry. He had his moments, most centred around his animals or his Australian treats, but they passed with little thought. No one sort to make him angry on purpose either, except maybe the Kiwi. So it was unusual to catch him worked up.

That's why, when Australia stormed through the doors of a world meeting, most people had the decency to be scared.

Very scared.

"Australia are you alright?" England asked as the man plonked into his seat beside him.

Australia levelled England with a glare to rival Sweden's.

"What happened, Australie?" France leaned over England, purposely shoving a hand on his face. The two scuffled for a bit, but France's question still rang in the air.

What happened indeed.

It had been a normal day, really. There was no tension in the air, no storm on the horizon, no creepy feeling riding up his spine. It had been three nights since he'd bombard America with all the slang he could think of, and beside the blond nation avoiding him, nothing seemed amiss.

Australia was taking a nice walk in one of the parks of America's capital since the next meeting would be held there, when he felt the vibrations of his phone ringing in his pocket. The man eagerly pressed the accept button and stopped the buzzing.

"G'day, Australia here, how can I help ya?"

"Oh, hey Aus, just calling to ask if you want to hang at my place for a bit?" An American voice rang out from the other end.

Australia felt a little confused, especially since the nation had been avoiding him of late, but he'd be damned to miss an opportunity to actually be social.

"Yeah sure, when?" He said, halting his walk.

"Now- see ya in a few!" He shouted eagerly and hung up the phone, leaving no room for protest.

Australia thought it was a bit fishy, but hey, that could have been the fish shop he was standing by.

So he met with him, turned up not twenty minutes later at America's door with a smile on his face. The poor guy had no idea of the horrors he would endure in the following hours.

"Hey dude, how's it going, c'mon in!" America opened the door and hauled Australia inside before he could say a word.

The click of the door locking behind him made Australia nervous.

"Right on time, dude, I was just about to start up lunch!" The American continued, a firm hand on Aus' shoulder as he guided him to the back yard. In the large grass area, Australia could see a speaker set up, a table, a barbecue and an assortment of sea-foods. Nothing was very alarming except for the fact that America had electrified and locked his fence.

As well as the door they just exited.

To say Australia wasn't starting to get worried, would be a lie. But maybe America had his reasons, like wild foxes in the area or possums or something.

As Australia soon came to realise, that was not the case.

Each item in the backyard was a specifically chosen torture device, designed to break Australia's will. It became apparent that the outing was not a social visit by the time America stopped speaking normally and only imitated Australia's accent. Now, at first it was funny, something of a joke, not a big deal. Then it got on his nerves as America started 'throwing strip on the barbie' and shouting along to 'land down under' at his loudest.

Australia sat through 45 replays of the song before he cracked.

45.

Australia vowed to lock America in a room for 42 hours playing nothing but Party In the USA if he ever got out of there alive.

The fence seemed his best option, although electrified. Anything, anything, was better than listening to someone yell about how 'women glowed' one more time.

He didn't know how he escaped, honestly everything past the appearance of fairy bread was a blur, but eventually Australia came to be where he was now.

At a meeting.

Obviously pissed.

And planning murder.

"You could say I have an American Idiot to introduce to my crocs." Australia finally said.

All conversations in the room seemed to stop short, a few shudders were seen, but other than that, no one spoke. A minute of silence was held in honour of their soon to be fallen comrade.

R.I.P America, was written on the white board, and his fate was sealed.


	14. Maybe a Little Jealous (Family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> Context: I got a suggestion from a Guest (on fanfic.net) about seeing more Big Brother New Zealand and Little Brother Australia. We've seen America and Australia getting into all sorts of high jinx lately and Guest wanted to see Zea getting a little jealous.
> 
> Enjoy!

They were at it again.

For the forth time that week, New Zealand had to watch as Australia and America team up to take down the forces of actually getting work done. It was annoying, and disruptive, and unproductive, and-

Oh god what are they doing now?!

New Zealand buried his face in his hands at the sight of Aus and 'Merica sneaking up on Russia with cream pies in their hands. They were so stupid, so irresponsible, so smiling like idiots, so laughing like they'd known each other for ever and-

New Zealand sighed heavily as he heard the squelch of pie meeting face and the unmistakable screeching of two men who would soon meet their ends.

Maybe men was a loose term. It was more like children who'd been caught trying to steal cookies out the jar.

Zea remembered that he and Aus had tried that once when they were little. Aus had always been a little trouble maker, constantly out to find a new and more dangerous form of entertainment. New Zealand guessed it was that behaviour that led England to put him in charge; he was more responsible after all.

Something about the memory infiltrating his head when it was Australia and America that were reminding him of it made him feel a little sour. Like the memory wasn't supposed to be compared with something his brother was doing as he sat idle. For whatever reason, he just brushed it off. He was used to seeing Australia and America getting into trouble and running around like little kids. They did it whenever they spent more than five minutes in the same room. He was used to it.

So why did his eye twitch?

He was annoyed, and he was sure it was because they were to complaining about being hunted down after it was them who'd summoned Russia's wrath. It was their fault that Russia had brought out the metal pipe and was chasing them around the meeting room. Although, from the loud bursts of laughter erupting across their terrified faces, it seemed like they were having fun.

More fun then he was, at least.

Zea hid his sour feelings as he politely listen to Canada chatting with him about hockey. The pleasant smile on his face never left, not because he forced it there, but because listening to Canada chat about something he was passionate about made him forget Australia and America.

Until they skid across the meeting table right in front of them.

"Come back here, da?" Russia said menacingly, feet slamming onto the table and advancing towards the two.

"In your dreams!" America shouted back, scrambling to his feet and picking Australia up by the collar with him.

"Idiot," Canada mumbled fondly under his breath.

New Zealand's eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he pouted at the two before he wiped the expression from his face.

"Oh well, at least it's entertaining." He said lightly.

It was less entertaining when a week later, New Zealand got a call saying the two had landed themselves in jail.

For trying to get on a closed down ride at water world.

Of all the things-

New Zealand sighed as he entered the police station to bail them out.

The two had forgotten their identification in their bags, which were in their car, which they weren't allowed to go get while being detained, which was why they had to call Zea.

As soon as New Zealand signed the forms and saw Australia and America walk out laughing their heads off, he felt something worm it's way into his head. It was annoyed, ticked off, exasperated, and didn't like seeing the two so happy. It reminded him of the feeling he'd had at the last meeting.

Zea ignored it as he drove America and Australia to America's hotel. The two of them opted to sit in the back seat together rather than split up. That too, irked New Zealand.

However annoyed he was, it didn't mean he could take it out on them, so he listened with a small smile on his face as they talked about their little adventure. He couldn't help imagining it as him and Aus though. They were close, sure, but they never did anything so…

Fun.

New Zealand often discouraged Australia from acting reckless, and it lead to long nights inside sitting on a sofa eating popcorn rather than infiltrating a closed down ride. He liked the things they did together, but seeing him so happy with America, like they'd been doing those types of stunts their whole lives left him feeling as though he'd sucked on a lemon.

He watched patiently from the car as America and Australia bro-hugged and talked about making plans for the next day over. When was the last time Australia had hugged him? When was the last time they'd hung out for more than a day?

Australia got into the front passenger seat with a grin on his face.

Come to think of it, when had Australia grinned at him without it being at one of their expenses? Sure they had nice times together, but did he ever look that happy to see him?

New Zealand's fingers tapped impatiently on the steering wheel.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Australia poked him in the shoulder.

"Nothing," Zea said, "it seems like you had a fun day."

"Definitely," Australia grinned again, "I can't wait to go at it again tomorrow."

"Hopefully without getting put in jail next time," New Zealand raised one of his thick eyebrows.

Australia shrugged, "If we do, you can bail us out again."

Oh, was that all he was good for? Just bailing out Australia and America, the dynamic duo? Well, next time they got in trouble, he'd make sure to forward their call straight to England and see how they liked it then.

"You seem sour, what's up?" Australia prodded.

"Nothing."

"Mmm, you're worse at lying than I am."

"I can't be that bad, Australia."

"Look at you with your smug little face, everyone thinks your so cheerful and innocent, but you're worse than Russia."

"That the best you got? Hanging out with America has weakened your game dear brother."

"Don't dear brother me, and hanging out with America is not weakening my game. It's the most fun I've had in centuries." Australia snorted at some funny memory.

New Zealand let a scowl form on his face when Australia's head was turned.

"Most fun you've had in centuries, huh?" He muttered.

"What was that?" Australia stopped looking out the window at some random thing that'd caught his eye.

"Nothing."

"You were muttering disdainfully under your breath, don't 'nothing' me."

"Nothing."

"Ugh, are you gonna make me guess for it?"

"Why don't you just ask America for his help guessing if you're having trouble?"

"Oh, so this is about America is it?"

"No."

"Yeah right, he insult your sheep?"

"No."

"He laugh at your sheep?"

"No."

"He-"

"If you say one more thing about my sheep, I'm kicking you out the car."

"… he diss Pavlova?"

New Zealand sighed.

"Ok, I got nothing, if you're still mad, just say about what." Australia slumped down in his seat.

New Zealand debated telling Australia. On one hand, he might just laugh in his face and call him a baby, on the other…

"I guess…" Zealand paused to try and collect his thoughts.

"I guess I'm… maybealittlejelous." He spat out the last words in a quiet jumble.

"Jealous?" Australia said, incredulously.

"Sorta?" He muttered.

Oh no, he's gonna laugh, isn't he? New Zealand thought, a wince on the horizon. He should just take it back and pretend he'd never said anything.

"Aww, you're jealous of me and America?" Australia smiled.

Any second now he was gonna start teasing.

Zea didn't respond.

"That's kinda touching, not gonna lie." Australia wrapped an arm around New Zealand's shoulders as the slightly older nation stiffened in surprise.

"America may be a right ol' laugh, but he's got nothing on me older brother." Australia ruffled a hand through New Zealand's light brown curls. "Who else'll keep me from accidentally starting world war three?"

New Zealand felt a smile tick up the corners of his mouth. The warmth of Australia's arm around his shoulders was more than welcome as they parked in his drive-way. He was surprised his brother hadn't started mocking him, and he was infinitely grateful. Maybe his brother did have a brain in there after all.

"In any case, whaddya say I call America and cut our day a little shorter so we can hang out tomorrow night?" Australia unbuckled his seatbelt and New Zealand did the same. "It'll be no worries, mate. Can't have him hogging all the Australia from you."

"That'd be nice," Zea rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"Alrighty, it's settled." Australia moved out the car, but stuck his head in the window again.

"See ya Kiwi." He said, face soft for once.

"Bye Aussie."


	15. Happy Fathers Day (Family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy fathers day (If it's fathers day were you live- if not pretend it is) to everyone's dads, or yourself if you're a father- I wouldn't know. I hope you all have a great day today, whether you spend it with loved ones or not.
> 
> This is super short, and rushed, and probably pretty bad, but I tried my best and I hope you get something out of it. A huge thank you to everyone leaving reviews, again, it's the most wonderful thing in the world!
> 
> Context: GalaxyWolf2.0 (on fanfic.net) made the great suggestion of doing a father's day special in honour of our favourite nations grumpy dad/brother/thing, England.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Lord save me." England sighed, pen scratching against paper.

He'd been a fool to leave his paper-work for the morning in favour of a few (hundred) glasses of whiskey. It'll be fine, he'd said, it's just one night. Being as old as he was (and wouldn't admit), he surely would have learnt his lesson by now, that no, it would not be fine, and no it was not just one night.

The pile of documents on his desk said otherwise.

In one hand, England's blue pen made it's way in looping signatures as the other tapped stressfully on the hard wood of his desk. His head pounded with the revenge of his liquor and his eyes felt as though they were attached to weights. Over-all, he felt like dirt.

England mused over the idea of staging his death to get out of his work.

It wouldn't have been the first time he'd done it. He made it quite the habit in the middle ages. Oh he missed when life was as simple as pretending to be burnt alive. Now to stage his death, he had to go through a whole world of trouble to make it believable. It just didn't seem worth it.

Buzz, buzz, buz-

"Hello, England speaking." England said politely into his phone.

Who the hell thought it was ok to call him at this time of day- or at all for that matter. He didn't seem to remember anyone saying they'd be calling, nor had his boss said anything about-

"G'day Britain!"

Oh, that answered that question.

"Good day, Australia." England said pointedly. "What're you calling to talk about this time. I swear, if you're about to ask me to bail you out of something stupid-"

"Nah, nothing like that, mate," Australia assured him, "I was just wondering if you were going out today?"

"Why would I be going out today?" England raised a bushy eyebrow, even if Australia couldn't see it.

"It's fath-… never-mind, I'll err, see ya later then." Australia quietly trailed off before hanging up.

"What is going on with that boy?" England muttered, placing the phone down.

Had he been in better spirits, he may have called him back to ask what was wrong, but he had a mountain of work to do, he was stressed beyond belief, and he wasn't even half-way through it all.

So it took all of England's will to resist the urge to hit his head on the table.

Repeatedly.

And so his day was made up mostly of pained groans, muttered curses, burnt scones, scolding tea, and wishing he were literally anywhere else in the world. He hadn't even had time to check the date or weather forecast he'd been so busy.

For some reason he'd felt something in the back of his mind since Australia had called. It was a nagging, lonely feeling that he just couldn't shake. It was as if he'd forgotten something important, and the fact that no one had reminded him was significant in some way. England didn't like the feeling, and thought it best to try and ignore as well as he could. Which wasn't that well, but whatever, he tried.

When he'd finally mustered up the will to finish his work, it was nearing six at night. Luckily, he was just in time to watch the news.

"The weather tomorrow will be cloudy with a bit of wind…" The news anchor woman droned on for a bit about the possibilities of a light shower before she said something that had England's full attention.

"And Happy fathers day to all the great dad's out there, we hope you've had a great day."

So that's what England had forgotten.

England felt strangely… let down? Not one of his previous colonies had called that day, save for Australia, who even then hadn't said a thing. He knew some of them didn't see him in the best light, but those who did… they didn't even bother with a card.

England switched off the television with a sigh. What did he expect, really? If his colonies didn't forget, they certainly wouldn't have said anything regardless. He wasn't really their dad, and even so, most saw him as some what of a brother. They had no reason to say anything.

It didn't stop him being upset over it though.

That's why it was such a surprise to England when his door-bell rang. It must've been one of his boss's assistants or something, ready to inform him of yet another stack of work to do. England debated pretending to not be home, but everyone knew he never went anywhere so what was the point?

"Hello, what-"

"SURPISE!"

England froze at the sight that greeted him.

Australia, New Zealand, Canada, America, Hong Kong, Sealand, and more all stood in the doorway holding an assortment of food, gifts, and confetti. They each wore identical grins of delight at seeing England's shocked face. Not once did he think they'd mail so much as a chocolate, let alone show up at his door.

Most of his colonies. They'd actually came.

The sight of his once-children standing there in varying degrees of festive joy filled his old heart with fondness. They'd all grown into such strong nations, and seeing them together just for him filled him with a swell of pride and happiness.

"Hey old dude, happy fathers day!" America grinned, the other nations repeating the end of the phrase.

"Who- what- how?" England stuttered out.

"I err," Australia coughed and scratched the back of his neck, "realised you didn't have any plans for fathers day and, y'know…"

He looked away bashfully, an embarrassed tint on his cheeks.

"Don't be so modest, Aus," Canada smiled. "He called us and organised to meet here for a fathers day dinner."

England chuckled warmly, eyes set on the red-faced Australia, "That was very thoughtful of you, Australia."

"Yeah, well," Aus flickered his eyes to the other nations, "I thought it would be nice to get together for once."

England smiled, "I agree."

The two shared a brief look, but it seemed enough was said. With his family, at his front door, on fathers day, England felt like he didn't need anything else in the world.

All the years and hardship that lead up to them being there together for once, felt worth it.

"GROUP HUG!" America shouted, latching onto England and dragging New Zealand with him.

Eventually, even the most stubborn nation amongst them had joined the hug, the mass of bodies almost toppling over multiple times. Every arm that circled England felt secure and warm, and although the only sounds that were heard seemed to be a jumble of complaints, he'd never been happier than in his family's arms.

His crazy, loving, wonderful, family.

"Happy fathers day England."


	16. In The Shade (Angst, family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, hey, back at it with the angst. I'm not super confident with angst, but I like writing it and really want to get better. So, with practise comes perfect… or something like that.
> 
> Context: This comes some time after the first one (Just a Shadow) takes place, and is probably not historically accurate since I haven't established a time-line for when this takes place (maybe some time in the 1850's), but Australia is physically about 10. So America is physically about 16/17 and New Zealand is physically about 11.
> 
> IMPORTANT: it has come to my attention that although being discovered before Australia by the British, New Zealand was colonised much later. So this is why it says in the chapter that he was discovered about a century before being brought to England himself. I like to imagine that he was found by the english and eventually left behind to find Australia, but was came back for later. Seeing as Australia was technically younger (since NZ was discovered first but only colonised nearly a century later), Zea made it a habit to look after him. And although Zea was more foreign to British influence, he forced himself to learn fast in order to be there for the younger nation that was his brother.
> 
> Thats just my head cannon- you don't need to agree if you don't want to, but after seeing the discrepancy in my writing, I thought it only fair to patch up.
> 
> So yeah, some really brotherly stuff there that I may elaborate on later.
> 
> I hope this isn't a fail, and that it lives up to expectation.
> 
> Enjoy!

To say Australia was scared wasn't the right word. He was nervous, yes. He was counting down the very seconds until the clock would strike one, yes. He was hoping for the best, yes. He was expecting the worst…

Most certainly.

New Zealand gave him a discreet but comforting nudge.

England had been in a horrible mood all week, which in turn made Australia and New Zealand's lives miserable. It wasn't as if anything horrible had happened, but they'd been wary of angering the empire, and if they did, they kept their mouths shut through the scolding. Even so, if England could forget about the visit, he would be pleasant again.

England wasn't usually so callous… Australia knew England in general had been less… reserved before America ruined it. He'd been told so many times. Not by England of course, who refused to acknowledge that the independence of his colony had meant anything, but by a few nations who he'd seen come and go. Mainly Canada, who he'd sometimes catch staring at England with a bittersweet expression. Canada explained that he felt it was nice to know England has truly cared about his brother, but sad to know what had come of it. Australia never really understood, but he did understand that whenever America's name was said, the air turned stale. It was always like that, and up until recently, the stale air had only been tense. Now it was laden with rigid uncertainty.

Did America even consider what would happen to England's other colonies when he decided to rebel? What would happen to the ones that would come after?

No.

But Australia couldn't really blame him, after all, he'd never met the guy. He didn't like the idea of him, certainly, but he wouldn't let that show. Despite what everyone had said about him, maybe he would be different. Maybe they had been wrong. And if they were wrong about America, then they were wrong about him-

Never mind. It wasn't important. He didn't think about it. There was no need.

No need.

England wasn't in the room, and maybe that was for the best. He'd been anxious all day, one minute the picture of sophisticated confidence, the next a nervous wreck. Australia sympathised with the elder nation. He knew it would be hard having the boy come over, and since the incident with Australia, England had never mentioned him outside of business and passing. Even then, he looked like he was treading on thin ice.

Australia was thankful that England had finally stopped. But the uneasiness that was left behind almost wasn't worth it. He didn't feel better, he didn't feel freed from America's image. He felt like he'd trapped England instead. The older nation was always wary when talking to him alone, like he would accidentally go back on the silent promise.

Australia wished to take it back.

He would have endured the scorn, the misplaced hate, the expectations, if only to live normally again. There was more tension, if possible, between the two now. Like both were waiting for it to slip again. It was painful in the anticipation, and maybe if they both just talked, they could get past it. But neither made the move.

Australia hated that he just couldn't make the move.

New Zealand was his only company in the old house since England had taken to avoiding him. He left him with his brother who was a decently recent addition to the household despite being older, in the hopes that it would make him feel better, and so that he'd never have the opportunity to repeat what happened last time.

Australia almost wanted it to happen again.

So they could get a do-over. A chance to handle it properly, a chance for Australia to not to start crying, because how could he have expected for England to act any different than he had? Australia never cried, so why did he think England would have known what to do when he did. No, they left in silence, and with that silence left words unsaid. And it seemed the words would hang in the air and would never be cut down.

"It's almost one," New Zealand pointed out, eyes darting to the large clock.

"Yeah, kind of exciting isn't it?" Australia shifted uncomfortably, eyes not daring to meet his brother's.

"Mhmm," Zea nodded, but rubbed his thumb in circles on Australia's hand.

Aus appreciated the gesture, but it didn't do much for his churning nerves.

What was that thing Canada said to do? Just spin the situation, calm down, let your mind wander away from the problem. Easier said than done when the problem was going to be walking through the door any minute.

But maybe Canada had a point, it wasn't a guaranteed disaster. He'd never met America, and England only spoke of him on the rare occasion now.

Maybe they'd get along. Maybe Australia would finally see what made them so alike. The thought filled him with some sort of desperate hope. If he could see why everyone compared them, it would make being compared better. Maybe even enjoyable? They could bond over it together, get along well together, become good friends together, patch over their rocky relations with England together.

He'd never met America, never even seen a picture, so surely they'd be similar enough that he'd notice it right away. Suddenly Australia was looking forward to the knock on the door.

Surely, surely, he'd finally get it. He'd finally be in on the sick joke, the unspoken agreement that he would forever be known as the knock off version of another person. Maybe if he saw it, he'd feel inclined to help out with the punch-line. Maybe if he saw it he wouldn't feel so…

Redundant. Unneeded.

Like he was some sort of replacement.

Three bangs sounded against the door.

If the knock was loud, then the beating of Australia's heart was deafening. The moment of reckoning was upon them, and Australia suddenly felt a little light. Like the blood had rushed away from all his limbs and left them useless and shaking beneath him. He stood with New Zealand and made their practised walk into the hallway.

His head felt full with sloshing liquid, a cold and murky substance that seemed to stop signals travelling from it to his body. The cold, iced, skeletal hand of dread dragged itself down his spine, and the feeling was so strong that Australia looked behind him to make sure no one was really there.

"It's gonna be fine." New Zealand assured him, though he looked tense as well.

The next few moment had been readily rehearsed over and over again. They would open the door, greet the guest, and England would come down the stairs in his best suit, ready to guide America to the meeting room. Then they'd discuss business while New Zealand and Australia made themselves scarce. After this, they would eat dinner together, then America would leave.

Plenty of time to run away screaming.

New Zealand squeezed his hand lightly as they stopped in front of the door. No, he wouldn't run. He'd face America and he'd treat him with a respect his name didn't seem to warrant. He would get along with the older nation, he would talk, he would chat, he would maybe make a friend.

Most importantly, he'd finally see.

He'd finally see the reason that he was always compared to America. He'd finally know why everyone would point it out. He'd finally see where they were coming from. He'd finally be in on the secret, for once in his life he'd see what they saw.

Please.

"Don't worry about it, it'll be fine." Zea muttered comfortingly, before placing his hand on the door knob.

Yeah, don't worry about it. He's right. Take a deep breath, everything will be ok. The input of countless people can't be wrong, he was definitely going to see it now. And if he didn't then…

Then what?

No, it'll be fine. Don't worry about it. You'll ruin the perfectly good clothes England got you if you're sweating too much, Australia thought.

The door swung open…

A blast of cold air hit them in the face, and if it was freezing in the hallway it would have been a wasteland outside. Australia felt bad for the obscured figure in the doorway. It was dark out, and the street lights only blurred on the back of the tall nation standing in the door. New Zealand stepped back from the walk-way and smiled politely with Australia a little ways back. Everything was practised and everything was going fine. America would step into the house, they'd talk, England would be fine, and all his worries would be put to rest.

The man in the doorway stepped in and shook the snow off his boots, a feat that would probably send England into a lecture if Australia had done it. But England was still waiting for the cue, and he wasn't there to see it. When America raised his head to shine both boy's a grin, Australia found that he'd been holding his breath. When he saw America's face Australia wished he'd kept holding it.

He didn't see it.

Why didn't he see it?

He didn't see it.

Australia smiled his best smile, though his eyes were stinging painfully. Outside he seemed cheerful, a little nervous, but overall, the picture of the perfect reaction.

His insides however, were a cracked shell.

Why?

Because he couldn't see how the bright blue-eyed, blond haired, cowl-lick baring nation, could create a shadow the size and shape for Australia to live in.

Maybe he was missing something, right? He had to be, because he saw no resemblance to the nation in front of him. The looks might not matter? No, that makes it worse. That makes it so much worse. The only thing a person truly owns is their personality. It makes you who you are. Without your personality what truly sets you apartIf that was the similarity then…

"Ah, America, how nice to see you on time." The tight voice of England spoke behind them.

Australia hadn't noticed the man's presence, nor had he realised New Zealand had pulled him to the side so England could stand facing his former colony square on. The realisation proved a worthy distraction. It cleared his mind a bit, bringing him back to the hallway instead of his head. He was aware of the sheen over his eyes now, so he swiped at it, pretending to get rid of a stubborn eyelash.

"Yeah, I figured it would be a good way to start, right?" The cheerful blond said, but anyone in the room could hear the subdued tone in his voice.

"Indeed," England said, then motioned to Australia and New Zealand. "These are the two colonies that have been staying with me as of late, Canada is taking time in his own house."

"Ah," America seemed a little let down that his brother wouldn't be there, but he perked up the he looked at the two younger nations.

"How are you little dudes? What're your names?" America smiled kindly.

Ok. This was ok. This was good. Nothing was wrong. He could last the night.

"My name's New Zealand, sir." Zea smiled demurely and extended a hand.

"Nice, my name's America, although you probably know that," America grinned.

New Zealand nodded, nudging Australia slightly to cue him.

"Oh, yeah!" Australia said cheerfully, hoping the waver of his voice could be counted to excitement. "M' name's Australia, nice t' meet you, mate!"

"Ha, it is, dude!" America gave back the enthusiasm, before turning the England. "Wow, these little guys are pretty great."

"They really are," England said smugly. "Australia has been doing well, and even though New Zealand here has only recently been taken after being found about a century or more ago, he's adapted better than any other colony."

"Any other colony?" America said teasingly.

"Yes." England gave him a look.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. America coughed awkwardly as the four stood in the hallway, just waiting for something to happen.

"Um, so, how's England treating you guys?" America gave them an awkward smile.

"Good, thank you for asking," New Zealand.

"I'm doing 'right, yourself?" Australia saw England wince at his language.

America laughed, ruffling Australia's hair a bit, "I like this one."

Australia smiled a little more truthfully.

"Y'know who these two remind me off?" America grinned at England, who's face went pale.

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it.

"New Zealand here reminds me of Canada when he was smaller, and Australia reminds me of myself, you see it right?" America didn't realise what his words meant.

Ha, ha. Would you look at that. What a lovely question. Did he see it? No. They didn't look similar. Did you hear it? No they didn't sound similar. You know what Australia did hear?

His footsteps pounding along the floor as he walked away.

His shoulders were back, his chin up, and his eyes stinging. He didn't stop when America asked what that was about. He didn't stop biting the insides of his cheeks until he found himself in his room. He didn't stop blinking the tears away until he sat in the corner.

Well that stung.

No, wait, it didn't sting. Stinging is short sharp and sweet. It's there and then it goes, leaving a throbbing pain behind. This was something different. This was the bullet in the stomach that someone doesn't notice until the've dropped to the ground. The one that people try in vain to plug up, but by the time the wounded man is down, it's too late. The one that you can feel seconds after it rips your insides open.

Why was he crying? It was stupid. He should have been prepared for it. He was over reacting, it wasn't like it was the end of the world. So he was always going to be just another America, so he was forever doomed to be locked into the comparison, so he was never going to be seen as his own person, so what?

It was ok.

Everything was fine, he was just overreacting.

Then why was he still crying?

"Sh-shut u-up," he muttered to himself. "S-stop crying."

He hoped they would continue without him, just forget he was even there.

Forget he existed, maybe even think he was really another America and that they didn't need to go after him because there was two, and one was in the meeting and one was crying, but that was ok, because they only needed one, right? You don't need two of the same person, so they can get rid of him, and not worry and-

"Aus?" A soft voice said from behind the door.

"Yeah, be there in a second, I forgot something in here." He called out, but who was he kidding? He could hear the tears through voice clear as day.

"Aus, look, you don't need to come down if you don't feel up for it." Zea said comfortingly. "I know that wasn't something you usually feel comfortable hearing, and I know you're probably sad, but it's ok."

"M-me, crying? Ha, not way!" He laughed, but it was topped with hysteria.

"Aus…" His brother sighed. "Come down when you're ready, and if you ever want me to come in-"

"Nope, all good, be down in a second- bye!" He said in a rush.

New Zealand hesitated at the door before leaving.

After being forced to stop the tears to talk, they seemed to be only coming out when he rubbed them. Australia squeezed his eyes shut and get rid of the stragglers before deciding the light (albeit frozen) feeling in his body was a sign he was over it.

100% over it.

Australia lifted himself from the floor and took a deep breath to calm himself down. It was not different than approaching a deadly animal, all he had to do was be calm, unthreatening, and steady.

Yep, 100% over it.


	17. Two Italians, a German and a Snake (Humour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys how are you? After last chapters angst, I got some quality comedy for you guys to make up for it.
> 
> Context: I was recently discussing Australia head cannons with someone, and one was about Australia being immune to his own animals venom. Since he's one of the deadliest places out there, It would make sense right? How else would he survive in his own wilderness?
> 
> So yeah, that's this week, I hope it makes you laugh!
> 
> Enjoy!

As expected, the world meeting was a bust. Not a total waste of time, but it was pretty close. Germany had called a break to try and pretend they at least had some sort of order. It was all an illusion however, since everyone had been 'on a break' since the meeting had started anyway.

England squinted suspiciously at the door which Australia had left through a few minutes before. It wasn't like he was going to go and try to find him because lord who knows what Australia gets up to that could kill him on a daily basis and oh now he's thinking about it and hallways are pretty dangerous honestly, just contemplate it for a moment and the amount of things that could go wrong at any second is just astounding and with Australia there-

Never mind, he walked back in.

He walked back in holding a snake.

Bloody hell, that kid was going to be the death of him.

"What in the world are you doing?" England raised an eyebrow, peering at Australia from his seat.

Not many nations noticed, most milling and yelling about, completely in their own little world.

"I brought a friend over," Australia smiled, "her name's Sheila, like the slang-"

"World for girl or lady, I know." England narrowed his eyes. "But why is it here?"

"You want the logical answer or the real answer?" The fact that he needed to ask was concerning.

"Real."

"I was bored, I remembered I had a snake, I brought the snake here."

"Wonderful."

Not wonderful.

What was he going to do with him?

Nothing. He wasn't his problem anymore no matter how much he worried about him like he was. He was a grown nation, he could make his own decisions. Bad decisions, but decisions none the less. If he wanted to bring a massive snake that took up both his shoulders and arms and was probably highly venomous, then so be it.

It was too early for this.

"Do whatever the hell it is you do, and don't come back when it's bitten someone, it's not my problem." England sighed, his eyes seeking out France for a distraction.

"You gotcha," Australia winked, heading off in the unfortunate direction of the Italian twins.

England was ready to cover his ears at any moment.

On the opposite side of the room sat an unsuspecting Italian chewing on his pasta. His day was going well, his food was nice, and even though the meeting was a disaster Germany didn't seem as bothered by it as he usually would. Everything was set up to go wrong. Why? Because having a good day never lasts when you're a nation.

"Hey, Italy!" A voice sounded behind the red head.

Italy smiled, swivelling his chair around happily to greet his fellow nation.

"Ciao Australi- AHHHHHH!" Italy let out an ear piercing shriek.

Somewhere an English man was muttering, "called it."

"SNAKE!" Italy cried, shrinking back in his seat.

"Yeah, her name's Sheila, say hi Sheila," Australia said happily, not in the least deterred by the Italians less than cheerful reaction.

The snake let out a soft hiss of recognition.

"W-why do you have a s-snake?" Italy stuttered.

"Reasonable answer or truthful answer?" Australia asked.

"T-truthful?" Italy's eyes never left the snake.

"I was bored and had a snake in my car."

"O-oh, okay..." Northern Italy gulped uncertainly.

"Hey fratello, the hell were you screaming abou- AHHHHHH SNAKE!" Southern Italy picked the wrong time to be concerned about his brother.

The south Italian quickly ducked behind his brother's chair and yelled obscenities.

"G'day Southern charm, this here is Sheila." Australia said cheerfully.

"First of all, don't call me that deadly bastard, second of all, that's a SNAKE!" Romano shouted.

"I noticed," Australia glanced at Sheila.

"Fratello, call the potato bastard, if someone is going to get eaten by a snake I'd prefer it to be him before me." Romano grouched.

"G-Germany?" Italy called out uncertainly.

Heavy footsteps started towards them accompanied by a heavy sigh.

"Italy what is it now?" Germany raised an eyebrow, coming to stand next to the two cowering Italians.

"Oh, hello Australia," Germany glanced up at the oceanic nation.

"G'day Germany, this is Sheila." Australia nodded his head to the massive snake on his shoulders.

"Oh, Guten tag Sheila, she's impressive isn't she?" Germany looked intrigued.

"The hell are you two doing? Going on like there's not a damn snake on his shoulders!" South Italy snapped.

"R-Romano, don't be rude," Italy said shakily.

"Rude? There is a SNAKE ON HIS HEAD AND NO ONE IS CONCERNED!" The older brother argued.

"Who, Sheila? She wouldn't hurt a fly." Australia shrugged.

"She's far from harmless, but I admire the sentiment," Germany corrected. "She's an Inland Taipan, correct?"

"That she is," Australia lit up, "how'd you know?"

Germany went a little pink, "well, I like learning about others wildlife and such, so it's only natural I'd know about some of your deadliest snakes."

"Did he just say deadliest snake?!" Romano parroted.

"Oh please say no," Italy mumbled.

"Yes, that's what I said." Germany looked unconcerned.

"Ok he said yes," Italy muttered faintly.

"Who would have thought, the deadly bastard and the potato bastard are both crazy." Romano said sarcastically.

"Aww, you wound me," Australia said, grin still in place, "a fondness for a little snake is hardly reason to call us crazy."

"A little- THAT IS NOT LITTLE!" Romano countered.

"Agreed- for once- that is a dangerous snake, and I have to wonder why you are so comfortable with it around so many people. Surely it's a risk to you?" Germany frowned slightly.

"Nah, s'all good," Australia waved him off, "Sheila knows me, she's a good snake."

"Good snake he says, ha, what about when it bites your head off?" Romano mutters darkly.

"I've got to agree with mio fratello, it doesn't look that safe." Italy moved to his feet only to stand behind Germany's large frame.

"For once I think you're right Italy, the noise in the room should upset any animal let alone a snake." Germany relayed. "It's into a matter of time befo- AGHHHHH!"

"AHHHHHH!"

"I TOLD YOU SO!"

Australia frowned at all he screaming, "what's gotten into you guys?"

"SNAKE!" Northern Italy shrieked simply.

"Yeah, I thought we covered that I had a snake." Australia said.

"Australia, you're snake seems to have bitten you!" Germany cried, muscles frozen as opposed to the shivering mess of the two Italians.

Australia turned his head to see Sheila's fangs an inch deep into his shoulder.

"It seems she has."

"And you're fine with this?" Germany said incredulously.

"Well, yeah," Australia said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Damn deadly bastard, I called it!" Southern Italy shouted from safely behind his younger brother. "You're crazy and it bit you!"

"I-isn't it poisonous?" Italy said in a worried tone.

"Definitely." Australia confirmed.

"A-and shouldn't it be killing you?"

"Certainly."

"But y-you're not worried?"

"Course not!"

"I'm confused." Germany said.

"Me too potato bastard." Romano agreed.

"Well, think about it." Australia said. "When I was a little guy, wandering around the bush for who knows how long, if I weren't immune to my own animals venom wouldn't I be sick and dying half the time?"

"... uh, yes?" Germany answered.

"So it's only natural I'd be invulnerable to it. My own animals can't poison me so long as they weren't introduced." Australia shared.

"So you're not going to keel over at any second?" Italy said hopefully.

"That's right." Australia said.

"Doesn't it still hurt?" Romano frowned.

"Absolutely." Australia smiled.

"Ok I'm out." Romano turned and walked away.

Germany and Italy watched him leave and thought it was the smart thing to do.

"You going to be ok?" Italy said, still eyeing the snake.

"Yeah, I'll go back to my car and patch myself up in a second." Australia divulged, making his way to the door.

"See ya!" He waved, exiting.

"I have some concerns..." Italy said, watching the nation leave.

Germany glanced at the small Italian and had to agree.

"Why is it always England's?" Germany muttered.


	18. Russian Roulette (Angst)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Rated T: For Russian Roulette as you can probably guess. If you don't know what Russian Roulette is, it's a game where you load one bullet into a revolver, spin the barrel and shut it without looking. Then you click off the safety and pray that the slot you have aimed at your head is empty. So naturaly this is a slightly darker fic and contains mention of things that go along with aiming a loaded gun at your head for fun.
> 
> Be warned, If you are sensitive to topics that could arise in this situation, feel free to skip this chapter and move on to the much happier next one.
> 
> Context: Ok, I looked up Russian Roulette because a friend mentioned it and I wanted to know it's origin, and what did I see? An article saying, and I quote, "It may surprise you to learn that Russian roulette is used in Australia to prevent or resolve business problems every day."
> 
> … Yeah.
> 
> I later found out that it wasn't literal Russian roulette, but a business tactic named after it, but for a hot second I was having existential doubts about Australia being a civilised country.
> 
> Because I'm mean and I thought it would be fun to play around with some good ol' Russian Roulette, here we are.
> 
> Enjoy!

The night was still but roaring, the air was stagnant but thick with tension and anticipation. He huddled in a corner, dirt walls high above his head. The air still lashed at him, a persistent whip only aimed to punish, not in the slightest deterred by the compact soil.

His arms felt like lead. Sluggish and weighed down almost as heavily as dirt packed onto week old bodies.

Everything about him was slow these days.

Slow to run, slow to pick up a gun, slow to duck out the way of fire, and slow to slip into a restless sleep. Everything was slow and he liked it that way. He liked the feeling of wading through murky water and sinking into quicksand. It was comforting, as if the water was not just suffocating him, but also cradling him in it's arms.

Five soft thuds sounded against the ground.

If the floor had been the wood of his home, the sound would have been deafening. He missed the way the ground felt on his uncovered feet, the way he'd stay in socks and slide around when feeling childish. He missed the crackling fire he'd light when nights got as cold as this, and the food he'd eat in front of it. He missed being safe, he missed being comforted, and he missed being wanted.

Out here he was alone, and back home he was alone too now.

The open letter beside him flickered in and out of his vision. It's words were daggers to his heart, each as sharp and painful as the last. He wished more than anything to burn the letter. Burn it and it's evil words.

But he couldn't.

So it stayed.

His hands manoeuvred the small casing into the hole, metal biting savagely cold on his fingers.

Everything was making him slower. Time, regret, guilt, sadness, hopelessness, and that hollow empty feeling that ate at him from the inside out. He couldn't escape it. He tried to sleep it off and let himself be devoured into guns and trenches and madness, but it stayed. Its was relentless and he wanted it gone.

Spinning, spinning, spinning, the barrel went round and round until he snapped it into place.

He knew people would hear, and he knew people would see. He would be seen as a traitor. Seen as useless and cowardly and weak if chance would allow it. And for the life of him, he couldn't prove them wrong. He was, and not just weak, but he was slow.

So, so slow.

Slow like the heavy drag of his arm upwards, slow like the blinking of his eyes as they focused on the sky, and slow like fate was to tempt him this way.

Click. The safety was off.

He was no longer safe, and lady luck had him in her hands.

He heard about the game from a mate of his. A young fellow. Far too young, and everyone knew it. If he, the man with slow eyes and slow heart could see it, how didn't the registration when the lad had signed up?

Maybe they didn't want to.

The metal was cold, all too cold for a night like this. He needed to see if today was his lucky day. To see if the universe thought he was still fast enough to keep going.

His mate had stretched his boyish face into a grin and took out a gun not meant for war. He emptied the barrel of all but one bullet and spun the chamber round.

"Russians are crazy, they have this game they play," He said. "It's the surest way to see if luck is rooting for you."

Clank went the safety of his mate's gun, and he shot it at the wall.

Nothing came out, just a dull click.

Luck was on the dirt wall's side that day.

CLICK.

Luck was on his side too.

The young boy had laughed, and said it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard. Said it was right for a laugh if you were piss drunk or feeling risky. It seemed his mate was wrong, since he was neither tipsy or feeling in the mood for games.

CLICK.

Two chances down, four to go.

Luck was bent on keeping him moving. Slowly, slowly moving.

Maybe it was a sign to keep going. To keep trudging through dead bodies and a dead cause. What was the point of fighting in the first place if he didn't meet his end fighting as well? One man doesn't mean much in meeting rooms, away from all the action. But when you're on the front lines you realise everyone matters. Every man, every gun, every bullet, every drop of blood, sweat and tears matters.

CLICK.

It seemed like today was a day where he mattered.

Everything was heavy, his arms, his eyes, his heart. He was just so tired…

"Hey mate… you ok there..?" Someone asked.

What a stupid question. Was anyone anymore?

His gun hand fell by his side, his head hitting the dirt wall as he slumped down. He was exhausted, but he managed to turn his head to the man who spoke with empty eyes.

The man looked younger than him, and maybe he wasn't even a man at all, but a boy pretending. His dirt caked face was tanned and ragged, but his eyes were a bright and wise green. The guy's hair was matted back by grime, but two stubborn pieces stuck up on the side.

"Ah… I guess not." The man awkwardly glanced away.

He said nothing, staring with some sort of morbid curiosity at the man a few meters to his right and wondering about the fact that he was still there. Most would have given him a knowing look and walked away. Or maybe even joined him for a laugh.

"I don't really recommend playing Russian Roulette alone in a trench, there're funner ways to play." The man forced lightheartedness into his tone.

Why bother with faking that? So many people did it, the whole trench was covered in a thinning vale of 'ok' and 'it's fine'. Everyone knew everyone was pretending, but if they pretended together it was somehow better. Apparently, he didn't get the memo, and so he was sitting by himself leaving luck to decide his fate.

"What's your name?" The man asked, and somehow a meter closer than he was before.

"William." He answered, and his voice was lower and hoarser than he remembered it.

"Nice name…" The man commented, looking unsure of himself.

William wanted to go another round, and maybe ask the man to join him. He had three shots left, so there was still a good chance he'd survive. The thing was though, that he just couldn't bring his arm up. It was like a dead man's body resting on his shoulders. Useless, but hard to get rid of.

"Umm, did you want to talk..?" The man asked.

If William didn't feel so slow and muggy, he'd have laughed said no. But he didn't have the energy to open his mouth again, so he shrugged his shoulders.

"Ok…" The man got comfortable on the ground, like he was going to stay a while.

William doubted it.

The man spotted the letter on the ground and didn't conceal his curiosity.

"She's dead…" William murmured in response, not knowing where his voice came from. "Died a week ago in a house fire… I loved her."

Understanding passed across the man's face as he looked at the dirty letter.

"All I have left to go back to is an empty house, and somehow I don't think that's worth it." William shook his head and sighed.

"Then fill the house with something." The stranger said, looking up with a familiar pain in his eyes.

William gave him a sluggishly confused look.

"You have an empty house, so put something in it. You lost what was special to you; you were robbed. It'll be hard to keep going, trust me I know, but eventually… you'll be able to move on." He said.

"Yeah right…" William snorted.

"No, really." He insisted. "It's… bad… for a long, long while, but one day it just isn't as bad anymore… and you wonder why you didn't see it before. It's cruel and unusual and you feel worse for not feeling guilty anymore, and sometimes it's just as bad as it once was… but hey, what are the chances that you're here, right now, in this time, at this point? You have a life, so might as well live it."

William wasn't so sure, but the man seemed to speak from experience. He made sense in a way… Didn't change how William felt, but maybe destiny kept the first three bullet slots free for a reason. He could keep moving through the quicksand in his head for a little longer, keep fighting for something he no longer believed in. If he died in the field then so be it, he would finally rest, but he was alive right now so what would he have to loose? He lost nothing in continuing, so as the man said, he had a life so he might as well live it… maybe for just a little while longer.

It would have been a waste of a bullet anyway.

"What's your name?" William asked after a long silence, limply chucking the mostly empty gun across the floor.

The man tensed up and his eyes darted away uncomfortably.

"It's Aus." He said.

"Aus? Don't tell me it's short for Australia or something…" William put the slightest tease into his barely functioning voice.

The man- Aus- awkwardly chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, "'Course not mate."

William lifted his head to the sky, watching the stars as they twinkled.

"G'night then mate, see you tomorrow, yeah?" Aus said, getting back up.

"Yeah… I guess I will." William agreed.

Another day wouldn't hurt, and maybe if he was feeling up for it, another after that… and another, and another up until he went home or was shot dead.

It sounded like a plan.


	19. G'day (Humour, Family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Recently myself and a friend found out that 1 in the morning was peak creativity time, and thus this idea (and many others) was born.
> 
> Context: This is another younger Australia one-shot, set sometime around his first few years living with England. This one is a little silly, and based on a conversation I had with a friend at midnight (or slightly past) about how Australia developed his classic phrase, "G'day!"
> 
> Enjoy!

Australia liked a lot of things.

He liked the way leaves crunched underneath his bare feet when he went walkabout in the bush. He liked the way birds birds chirped to each other in a steady conversation when he moved through their trees. He liked how blue the sky always was when he went to lie flat on his back after a long day. He liked the burnt orange sunsets and how they painted billabongs into molten lava.

One thing he didn't like was getting things wrong.

Lost in the middle of nowhere with only mother nature and your wits meant you could do nothing 'incorrect'. What you say goes, and you make your own rules. If you fall into a stream it wasn't a mistake, but a happy accident that you get to chuckle to yourself about for the rest of the day. When he was alone, he never did anything faulty, everything was right but maybe a little less right than some other things.

When he wasn't alone, it seemed that wasn't the case.

He liked having company, he really did. After years he could't count of being by himself, a body beside him felt welcomed. One that could talk to him, and looked like him, and sounded a bit like him that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside like nothing ever seemed to have before. It was nice. It was one of the many things Australia liked.

It came with a bit of a downside though.

When he had to be with people, he had to uphold a standard. With different people it was a different standard, and it depended on so many things what that standard was. Just thinking about it made Australia's head spin.

It did feel nice when he did something right, or when he made someone laugh or coo or smile. He liked that part about company. He liked getting things right, and that's why he didn't like getting things wrong.

Like he was now.

Australia kicked his small legs about as he listened to England pronounce the phrase again. He'd heard so many people say it, so he didn't think it'd be all that hard to learn. It was simple, it was short, it was said casually and fleetingly, and all that was right up Australia's alley… Not that he had any alleys yet, but he'd seen countless here at England's place.

Problem was, as easy as it seemed, words seemed to fail him.

"It's ok Australia," England said reassuringly, but Aus could hear the strain in his voice, "try again."

"Gwood Dey." Australia mimicked his best English accent.

"You're getting closer," England gave him a tired smile, "try again. This time without the 'w' sound, and less 'ey' more 'ay'."

Australia groaned swayed in his chair. He was getting nowhere, and he was getting bored. They'd been rehearsing common sayings that were supposed to be used in 'polite society' so Australia wouldn't make a fool of himself (and therefore England) next time he had to talk to one of England's nobility or parliament officials. He didn't think it was all that necessary, after all, he hadn't done anything that bad last time… But it made England think he needed lessons, and most of the time he got everything wrong.

Australia didn't like getting things wrong.

Getting things wrong felt like being hit with a small pebble, the bigger the wrong the bigger the rock. No big deal right? Wrong. Because the thing is, the pebble hits the exact same spot every time. So if you're hit for long enough, you get a nasty bruise, and the bruise doesn't heal because you're still being hit by pebbles. So you're stuck in concrete being pelted with rocks, helpless to stop them, and you feel weak because they're so small but they hurt so much, and the longer you stay there the more it stings, and it's annoying and it's stupid and it's one of the many things that Australia is certain he doesn't like.

"This is stupid," Australia muttered. "Why can't I just say 'hello?' Or even 'Hello, how are you?'"

England sighed, but tried his best to look patient, "because when you're meeting members of the crown or my parliament, a different greeting is in order. Heaven forbid you meet the Queen some day and casually say 'hello'."

"Will I be meeting the Queen?" Australia raised a thick eyebrow.

"I hope not in the near future, but eventually you'll have to," England's eyes glazed slightly as he thought of how the encounter might go. He looked slightly terrified.

"Then why don't I just not greet them?" Australia said. "I'll pretend I'm sick or I'm mute."

"You love talking far too much to pretend to be mute, Australia." England said.

He had him there.

"But Englaaaaannnnddd!" Australia whined. "This is hard, and I'm tired, and I can't get it, and I don't want to."

"Well you have to suck it up a bit longer," England said firmly, but not unkindly. "You were almost there with that last one."

"Why can't I get it?" Australia asked, knowing England couldn't really give an answer.

"I don't know, if I could shorten the word to make it easier I would," England sighed, "but I can't do that, so we have to try again until you get it. I have a gala tomorrow, and you have to attend with me."

Unknown to England, a lightbulb went off in Australia's head.

It was a great plan, a perfect one really. England all but said it himself. He'd get it right, and he'd make it easier for himself. No hard work, but the same result. It sounded great to Australia's work-repelling nature.

"England?" Australia said, preparing his secret weapon.

England squinted suspiciously, "Yes?"

"Can I practise alone for tonight? I'm sure I can get it!" Australia said hopefully, waiting a second before unleashing his hidden power.

Aus hit him with the puppy dog eyes, the biggest and most innocent he could muster.

He could see England's internal struggle; the conflict between standing his ground and giving in. Australia knew he had him within the first two seconds.

England sighed in defeat, "Fine, but you better come back speaking like a proper gentleman or so help me."

"Thank you England!" Australia cheered, hopping off his chair and giving the older nation a hug.

England was startled by the affectionate gesture and forgot to return the embrace, but the pleased and embarrassed blush on his cheeks let Australia know it was appreciated.

"Good night!" Australia ran down the hall and slipped into his bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face.

He couldn't wait for tomorrow, and luckily enough he fell asleep quickly and didn't have to wait for long.

The following morning England was all scepticism and suspicious looks, but Australia tried not to take offence. It wouldn't have hurt for England to give him the benefit of the doubt… Ok maybe it would've, but not this time! This time rats were not involved, so the risk of fingers being bitten again were slim. Slim, not impossible, but still unlikely.

Whatever grievances England had, he kept them to himself for the most part. But when they approached the event hall, England couldn't help try to reassure himself that Australia knew what he was doing.

"You are completely sure you have this under control?" England asked, hand raised to the door handle.

"Absolutely!" Australia beamed.

England sighed and stepped into the party, seeking out someone less posh to talk to first… just in case.

"Good day Mr. Miller," England said, shaking an older greying man's hand. Mr. Miller may have been old and a part of high society, but calling him anything less than spritely and good-natured would be a crime. "I trust you've been well?"

"Of course," Mr. Miller smiled. "These old bones aren't withering away just yet, although I suspect Mr. Wilson would be saddened to hear that."

England chuckled at the joke before gesturing to Australia who was subtly hiding behind his legs.

"I assume you know of my most recent addition to the English Empire." England said, giving Australia an encouraging hand on the shoulder.

"Of course I do," Mr. Miller smiled, bending down slightly to be eye-level with England's charge. "Australia wasn't it? Good day little man."

Australia nodded enthusiastically, forgetting to keep eyeing the mass amount of people. England didn't realise he was holding his breath until Australia opened his mouth to return the greeting. He hoped upon hope that it wasn't a mistake to fall for the puppy eyes again.

"Yes sir, that is my name," Australia said, mimicking the proper speech that plagued these events.

Now was the moment of truth, would England be pleasantly surprised and later take Australia to a park to celebrate, or would he have to refrain from dying of embarrassment?

"G'day to you too!"

Refrain from dying of embarrassment it was.

That day was a lesson to Mr. Miller that human faces really could go redder than tomato, a lesson to Australia that maybe he should try working at things he got wrong instead of trying to find a way around them, and a lesson to England that he should never fall for puppy eyes.

Ever again.


	20. Who's Davie? (Angst, friendship, humour?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Context: If you didn't know, in one of the Hetalia episodes and manga strips, America is revealed to have had a human friend when he was a very young nation. If you haven't seen the episode, look who he is up real quick, or you may not get this.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was generally quiet at this time of night. The sun had long since gone to sleep and left the sea reflecting only silver moonlight. Sand grains slipped and slid under the two nations sitting near the waters edge, the time of day leaving not another soul in sight.

There used to be a group of men and women immortals wasting the day away, in the ocean or on the shore, but as the sun dipped below the horizon, not many saw reason in staying. The brown haired nation to the left was splayed on the sand almost childishly, enjoying the feel of his friend's beach beneath his back. The blond one with glasses was looking out at the sea with a placid expression, but every now and then his eyebrows would crease in thought.

"Don't think too hard, you'll hurt yourself mate," The brown haired one quipped, an arm resting over his face and eyes.

"The hero's always thinking," The American proclaimed, wiping the tense expression of his face in favour of a Hollywood grin.

"About what?" Australia asked, slowly sitting up, not bothering to brush the clinging sand off his clothes.

"Saving the day of course!" America flashed a practiced smile before his gaze returned to the ocean once more.

"Sure, and that's why you look like you're solving Einstein's riddle." Australia said, unconvinced.

America sighed flopping onto the sand that Aus was previously lounging on. "I was… thinking about my attic."

Australia snorted, but he didn't seem too genuinely amused, "If I kept sticking my head in my attic I'd never leave the bar."

America chuckled at the joke, eyes trained to the stars above him, "We've all got something we'd rather keep shoved up there."

"I bet I got more skeletons in the closet than Mr. Hero," Australia said, a smirk on his face.

"That a challenge I hear dude?" America returned the expression.

"Sure, what're the stakes?" Australia leant back on his elbows.

"Looser has to piggy-back the winner to their car," America said, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Deal." Australia shook America's awkwardly angled hand.

"So, we gonna lay some rules down mate?" Australia asked.

America made a considering noise, "Let's keep it personal. Nothing that's been down on paper before that we would already know. I doubt we're gonna be happy bringing up old dirt."

"Challenge accepted burger-lover," Australia nodded, joining America on his back on the sand once again.

The stars and the moon seemed interested in the conversation, peaking out from thin clouds and bestowing a spot light on the pair. Should anyone walk past, they would seem like two bro's laying five feet apart talking about nothing, which was exactly the point. A soft wind picked up a few grains of sand, combating the decently warm night.

"You go first?" America prompted.

"Sure," Australia grinned and America could practically see the cogs turning in his head. "Ok, when I was taken to England I got lost in London. Little old me 'ad never seen so many people, so may buildings and so little chance of ever finding England again. You can imagine how a five year old all alone and ridiculously unused to crowds would react. Probably not one of my best moments."

"Oooh, nice one," America complimented. "Hmm, practically my whole relationship with England in the late 1700's was a heart-wrenching disaster. It's never fun fighting against your entire family."

"Ha! I knew that already!" Australia countered, clicking his fingers. "Everyone knows about the revolutionary war."

"Damn, you're right," America said, mockingly ticked-off. "That rules out the civil war too."

Australia waited for America to try again, but sighed when he realised he was off in la-la land again. It was obvious that their game wasn't covering up any thoughts America was having about his past well enough, so Australia decided to change tactics.

"Crikey, you look like a blob-fish staring like that, what's wrong?" Australia raised an eyebrow.

America blinked a few times to snap out of it, his eyes dating over to Australia in recognition. The older nation let out a loud and possibly over-dramatic sigh, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes, not minding the sand now running down his face.

"You ever make any friends?" America said, voice quieter than before.

Australia gave him an almost offended look.

"I mean a human one," America corrected.

Australia slowly frowned, looking up at the sky. He knew his answer, and he knew he'd say it. It was bittersweet, making friends with humans. It was short lived and doomed from the start, but it was some of the best times of his long life.

"Yeah…" Australia muttered.

America didn't remove his arms from his face as he spoke, "I had a friend a long, long time ago. His name was Davie."

"Davie?" Australia prompted, the night's cool wind feeling suddenly colder.

"Mhm," he agreed, "I looked maybe four?"

"Blimey, this was a while ago," Australia commented, stretching out on the sand.

"Yeah," America agreed. "I would play with him for a day or so, then I'd come back and he'd keep getting older while I stayed the same. Perks of being a nation I guess…"

"Let me guess, he died and you never realised?" Australia said softly, eyes trained to the stars again.

"Yeah…" America admitted.

The sky had gone completely black, maybe blue at some points if you squinted. The air was finally still, the cool breeze ceasing to make either man shiver.

The stars were such pretty things.

Massive balls of fire, four light years away. So unreachable, but for a few seconds if you lift your hand up you can almost touch them. The stars were like the nations on the beach, immortal until they burnt out, and forever so close yet so far from each other.

"I actually went to his funeral," America mumbled, almost to himself. "Didn't know it was one… but I still came. There were these flowers he used to like, I don't remember much about them, except they were the prettiest purple I'd ever seen dude…"

Australia nodded despite knowing America couldn't see him.

"I guess that's life," Australia mumbled back.

America was silent for a while, and the only sound was the soft crashing of waves agains the sand

"Oh well," America said, hauling himself into a sitting position. "I guess it wasn't all bad."

"Hmm?" Australia questioned, groaning slightly when he sat up himself.

"I had to learn sooner or later, and it was better having known him then loosing him than it would have been not knowing him at all," America moved to stand and offered Australia a hand.

'True,' Australia thought, taking the hand in his own. America wasn't known for his philosophy, but no one lived as long as him without developing their own views. Australia was proud to say he shared a few of them.

"That sounds like something a hero would think," Australia inclined his head and grinned.

America returned the smile and chuckled a bit, helping Australia to stand.

"Well, I don't call myself one for nothing," America said, his playful tone returning.

"So it isn't just because you have an ego the size of your country," Australia poked playfully.

"Hey!" America shouted in indignation.

The two squabbled as they made their way back to the cars, not paying any mind to the disrupted stillness. Their words echoed across the quiet street, but maybe the noise was more peaceful than the silence for once.


	21. How Bold of You (Humour, crack)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayy, the next one is here! How're you all doing today?
> 
> This is low-key kinda crack-ish so sorry if it's not as funny, and it's also super short.
> 
> Context: This one has an attempted robbery in it, so if you're uncomfortable with a situation like that, feel free to skip this one. Also, some swearing.
> 
> Enjoy!

Australia loved having the world meetings at his place. Although some countries seemed reluctant to fly over, everyone always turned up. It wasn't like they had anything to fear (more than usual anyway), but some thought that their chances of survival dropped each second they stayed on his land.

Were they right? Probably.

Australia scrolled down on his phone as he rounded a corner, footsteps puncturing the silence on the strangely vacant street. He wasn't too far away from the building where the meeting was being held, so he decided that a nice walk would do him some good. He loved the sunshine that enveloped the quiet suburb and the warm breeze that passed every so often.

It was a peaceful day. Which meant it'd be ruined shortly.

As Australia walked, a sudden cold blocked out the warmth of the sun. He'd been so lost in thought that he'd almost missed the presence of another nation near him. The nation couldn't have been more than a block or so away, so Australia strolled to a building and leant his back against it to wait. It would be nice for one of his friends to join him to the meeting, especially when it was in his country.

No, he wasn't lonely, what gave you that idea?

"Hello Australia," Russia said cheerfully, rounding the corner.

Australia thought it was impressive that Russia was somehow still in a massive coat, jacket, and scarf, considering that it was the middle of his summer.

What an absolute legend.

"G'day Russia," Australia said, ignoring how much taller Russia was than him when they started to walk side-by-side. It wasn't often Australia felt short, and now was one of those rare times.

"How have you been?" Russia asked. "It has been a while since you and America have tried to prank me."

"Oh, yeah, same old," Australia neglected to inform Russia that they'd stopped because of the murderous looks Belarus had been giving them… murderous. "Yourself?"

"Oh, I have been well." Russia said pleasantly.

The two continued their polite conversation for some time, Australia eventually noticing that they we're on the verge of being late, and consequently leading them through a few shadier back-streets. Now, this would usually be a bad idea… and it still was, who just goes into a shady alley and doesn't think they'll get murdered?

These guys.

"Put your hands up and gimme all your money!"

Ah, perfect timing.

Australia and Russia stopped in their tracks and turned around slowly. At the sight of Russia, the lady trying to rob them went as pale as… well, Russia. Her eyes went comically wide, but the grip on her knife stayed firm, and soon enough, a few more people come to back her up with varying degrees of violent intent.

"I said give us all your money or I'll kill you!" She shouted again.

Australia folded his arms, "Bold of you to assume I have money."

"Bold of you to assume I can die," Russia chipped in.

The small crowd of muggers looked at each other in confusion.

"Didn't you hear her?" A gaunt looking older man said. "Give us your shit or you're dead!"

"Hmm, what about it Aus?" Russia turned to Australia with a mock-considering expression on his face. "Should we hand them our shit?"

"Nah, I think dying would be more fun," Australia said, nodding.

"Agreed," Russia turned back to the alley-way. "I get to pop into hell again."

"Crikey, I was wondering how James was doing," Australia slapped his forehead. "How's eternal punishment treating him?"

"Oh he is well," Russia said conversationally. "Sometimes it's a little hot, but he's used to it."

"Are you two crazy or something?!" Someone cried.

"Most definitely," the two confirm.

"C'mon, let's just knock 'em out and steal their stuff!" One prompted.

"How funny that you assume you can knock us out," Russia smiled.

"You guys are gold with all these jokes," Australia agreed.

Now, the small mob of people holding various weapons were very confused. These two guys, not a day over their mid twenties, were facing the possibility of death like it was an everyday occurrence.

What the fuck?

"The hell is wrong with you two?" The first lady asks.

"A lot of things," Australia admits.

"You could write a novel." Russia pitches in.

"Or maybe an anime series."

"We should ask Japan about that."

"True- speaking of such, we really need to go, nice meeting you!"

And the two walked away, chatting about the pleasantries of eternal damnation, leaving some really fucking confused robbers behind.


	22. Wonders of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, my hand slipped and I wrote more Little-Aus.
> 
> Context: No time-line (I should get on that)… Assume before the angsty stuff I wrote, maybe some-time after The Talk one-shot? This is mostly me musing the idea of Australia finding England's basement of magic and being the nation he is: destroying the place.

Tiny footsteps echoed off the high luxurious walls of England's house. House was a bit of an umbrella term though, because when it boiled down to it, the more commonly used noun would have to be mansion. Australia knew what a noun was because of his literature classes with England. Although, sometimes (more often than not) he'd mess up the words in some form.

Back to sneaking around.

Australia stealthy slipped down the hard-wood floors, using his socks as a silencer for his movement. He had a lot of experience sneaking around, much to England's chagrin and New Zealand's exasperation. One time he managed to sneak outside in the middle of the night and see his grass-snake friend, but was promptly caught red-handed (snake-handed?) when England somehow knew he'd escaped. To this day, Australia is still confused on how England knew.

Back to sneaking around at night, as of now no more distractions… was that a spider?

Crikey, stop and focus! Aus thought to himself, sliding up against the basement door. You can get the spider later!

Australia wasn't just casually sneaking into the basement at… one in the morning for no reason now. He had a mission. He knew England liked to rave on about magic, magic was practically one of England's children. He heard thousands of stories from England about all the cool things he'd done with it, and Australia badly wanted to try himself. Every time he asked England however, he would be very firm about magic not being for children.

Obviously the next logical course of action is to break into England's basement.

Aus jiggled the handle and frowned when it didn't open the door. Pouting, Australia mulled over things he could do to get it open. Then a (figurative) light bulb lit above his head. Australia slunk back down the corridor and up the stairs to England's room, creaking the door open as silently as possible.

Australia silenced his breathing as much as he could as he manoeuvred his way around the spacious room.

England never liked anyone in his room when he was awake, let alone sleeping, so Aus had to be extra careful about avoiding detection. The little nation slowly crept towards the bed-side table, spotting the telling sparkle of metal. Aus slowly reached his hand up towards the flat of the desk and raked it against the surface, waiting for his fingers to touch cool brass. Too little too late, Aus flinched at the sound of a crash, his hand knocking a pen to the ground. The silence was punctured like a kookaburra laughing at ungodly hours of the morning, and Aus held his breath as England shifted under his sheets.

He was so dead, deader than dead, deader than the deadest most dead dead-

England stopped moving about and settled back into his blankets, undisturbed. Australia let out a silent but just as relieved sigh, quickly snatching the key and scrambling out of the room faster than a croc in the water.

With his plan back on track, Aus slipped back down the stairs and to the basement door. The nation let himself have a moment to silently punch his hand in the air in triumph, a grin on his face.

"Aus?" Australia whipped his head around like a startled animal. "What're you doing?"

It was New Zealand.

Australia straightened himself and shoved both hands behind his back unsuspiciously, plastering a nervous smile to his face. New Zealand rubbed his eyes sleepily and yawned, obviously having just rolled out of bed, but his curls were still somehow neat. Australia wondered if he could convince his brother he was in some sort of dream…

"Aus?" He asked again, eyes squinting in the dark.

"Umm, hey Zea!" Australia whisper-shouted.

"What are you doing next to the basement door?" He asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," he automatically spewed, "just on my way to the bathroom."

"The bathroom is that way," New Zealand pointed to the opposite room.

Dang it.

"Oh, really? It's so dark I didn't notice!" Australia lied, moving around Zea to look like he was making his way to the bathroom.

"Australia…" New Zealand said, usually polite and calm tone low and warning.

"What?" Australia feebly asked, knowing he was seconds away from being caught.

New Zealand looked like he wanted to expose Aus, but Australia suddenly had the greatest idea. There was enough light from the candles in the hall so they could barely see each other, and Australia knew that the light was enough.

He pulled out the puppy-eyes.

New Zealand paused as his mouth opened to say something, face forming a frown at the sight of Australia's wide-eyed pout. Zea stared at him a long while, and Australia could see his internal battle trying to resist his little brother's cuteness.

It was a battle he lost.

New Zealand sighed, looking away, "Don't do anything too bad, ok?" He relented.

Australia beamed, running up and hugging his older brother tight, "Thank you, you're the best!"

New Zealand sighed but smiled in a long-suffering way, "Don't forget it."

New Zealand made his way back to his room, praying his brother had even a scrap of sense.

Australia unlocked the door, suppressing a whoop of excitement. He tentatively sneaked across the colder, harder stone steps to the bottom of the stairs and pulled on the light switch to bring him light.

Australia let his eyes roam around the room in child-like wonder. Selves upon shelves lined the room and corners, stacked with countless jars, pouches, pitchers, containers and bottles, each with a new and mysterious looking substance. Glowing lights shone in sparkles of colour, a compact rainbow that was scattered about the room, coming from various magical items. Books were scattered and thrown around the surprisingly dusty room, but even that couldn't mask the ancient beauty of the space.

Too bad Aus had a track-record of destroying beautiful things.

First it was England's ornate vase, then he snapped the chain of a solid gold necklace, then he threw a ball through a stain-glass window, then he smashed a chandelier, then his mouse chewed up a tapestry, then-

Australia stood on his tip-toes to try grab a glowing jar, promptly knocking it into a cauldron on accident, and smashing the thing to bits. He cringed at the sound, eyes darting fearfully to the door, but thankfully no angry England descended on him. He would be sure to drill him with the classic 'listen to me when I tell you things' lecture, promptly followed by the usual 'responsibility talk', then capped off with a disappointed glare. Australia had been on the receiving end of that triple whammy enough times to quote the first half of the lecture off-by-heart. Maybe by Christmas he'd be able to recite the whole thing.

Australia moved away from the glowing pile of goo and hoisted himself onto of the table to reach the selves easier. He knocked a few books over, but they didn't make much sound. Now in prime position to touch anything his heart desired (in the general vicinity), he took a bit more care in how he handled everything. While scanning the shelves he noticed a cool glittery powder that would look amazing with he glowing goop, so he promptly emptied the contents into the colder on and stirred it. Aus frowned, noticing how the mixture was too thick to see the sparkles well enough. So, he picked up a mostly clear liquid from beside his foot and poured it in, much happier with the result. The next few minutes went a lot like that. With Australia finding a cool looking thing, and tossing it in the pot with the rest of the cool things, even lighting a fire under it when he got a little chilly. In the end he also felt like reading one of the books, but when he got stuck on words he had to try say them out loud.

"Hoc es-est magico prae… prae- struth this is hard- prae-cin-uis-set?"

The flames under the pot turned green suddenly.

"This isn't good." Aus muttered, slowly backing away.

The heated mess in the cauldron started bubbly and spitting, a pink light pouring out. Australia started to panic, rushingly trying to blow out the fire, and failing miserably. He was so dead, so very very dead. He should have stoped when New Zealand had told him, this was a horrible idea, he had no idea what the magic was doing! Would it hurt him? Oh no no no no no- would it kill him?!

He had no other choice.

"ENGLAND!" He cried, pressing his back against the opposite wall of the magic-spewing pot.

Australia sunk against the stone and closed his eyes, bracing for some sort of explosion.

BANG!

The door of the basement flung open, revealing a very disheveled, very tired, but very panicked looking England.

"England!" Aus scrambled off the wall and latched onto England as tight as he could, small arms wrapping around the taller man's waist.

England looked down, a wave of relief hitting his face before he raised a hand brandishing a wand and pointed it at the pot.

"Prohibere!" England said, and the ready-to-burst cauldron immediately froze, like time had simply sopped working around it.

In the silence that followed, Australia had enough sense to bury his face in England's night shirt to keep a few stray tears from showing up.

Panting loudly England raked a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry!" Australia said desperately, guilt written on his face. "I didn't mean to!"

England's gaze found Australia's face and for a moment Aus thought he would yell. However, he was surprised when England knelt down beside him and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Don't ever do that again, you hear?" He said firmly, but something seems caught on the back of his throat.

Aus nodded quickly, very sure that this would be the last time he ever entered the basement… probably.

England sighed, standing up again. He looked exhausted and ready to drop dead, but never the less he held his shoulders back and head high. After a long moment under England's scrutiny he shook his head and let out an almost amused huff.

"You remind me a lot of America, you know?" He said.

Australia tilted his head. He knew about America, had heard his name in passing, sometimes new countries that came to visit would tell him the same thing England just did.

"But never was he this adamant about trying to give me a heart attack." England walked up the stairs, Aus following very close behind.

"I'm sorry…" Australia muttered, taking a look back at the mess he made.

"Oh you will be, don't worry," England dragged his feet down the hall way, shutting the basement door behind him. "There will be many words exchanged in relation to you little stunt."

They went up the stairs and pass Zea's door, which was suspiciously open, until they got to Australia's room.

"But right now, I'm tired and you gave me too much of a scare for me to want to do anything but sleep right now." England admitted, tucking Australia into bed.

Aus nodded snuggling in.

"Now," England stood up, "You best give your brother a thank-you tomorrow morning, he's the only reason I was awake in time to help you."

Australia normally would have called Zea a snitch, but it did save him from god-knows-what that spell was doing.

"Goodnight."

~~~~

Knock, knock, knock!

"France, what're you doing-"

"ANGLETERRE, YOU FIX THIS RIGHT NOW!"

"… Is your hair-"

"PINK!"

"Oh, uh," muffled snickers, "how unfortunate."

"Don't 'how unfortunate' me! I know you did this with your magic!"

"Well excuse me, I can assure you that it was not my hand that performed any spell to make… this happen."

"Don't lie to me, who else could have done this?!"

"I have no idea."

Slam!


	23. Happy Halloween (Humour, family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween guys (if it is halloween where you are), I hope you have a spooky yet wonderful day!
> 
> Context: This come from a prompt that snowstar1016 submitted to me and goes as follows:
> 
> You and your friends decide to try and summon a demon at your sleepover. You are completely stunned when your mother appears in the middle of the room when the ritual is finished.
> 
> If you may be uncomfortable with mentions of demons and other malevolent spirits as stated in the prompt, this one-shot may not be for you.
> 
> So I hope you like this spooky Halloween story! P.S. the ending is ambiguous/just there for the creep factor, so don't worry to much about it.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Canada mumbled sitting with his knees to his chest on his open sleeping bag in his maple pyjama's.

"Totally dude!" America grinned, sporting a super-man themed shirt and sweat-pants.

"Absolutely not!" Australia clapped his hands and smiled confidently, koala baring flannel rolled up to his elbows.

"It can't be that bad," New Zealand offered (although he didn't sound very sure), hugging a sheep pillow to his chest.

Australia and America pushed their messy piles of sleeping equipment further out of the way of the massive ritual circle. Canada nor New Zealand had the guts to ask what exactly the red substance was, but even if they had, they knew they wouldn't have liked the answer. Regardless of their brother's reluctance, both Aus and America gleefully finished mapping out a life-sized version of the demonic symbols etched into the very conveniently placed magic book they had found on their doorstep the morning of Halloween.

Of course, neither Australia nor America questioned the ritual book and skipped right to the 'let's summon a demon' phase.

As you could see, New Zealand and Canada were thrilled.

"Hmm, I think that's it right there," Australia announced, standing back from the messy scrawl on the floor of the living room.

"Now for the candles!" America high-fived his friend excitedly.

"Do you think we should leave while we still can?" Canada whispered to New Zealand, watching his brother lighting the red and black candles warily.

"I think it's a bit late for that," New Zealand sighed, plastering an encouraging smile on his face as Aus waved enthusiastically.

"Why do they never listen to us?" Canada groaned quietly, letting his head hit his knees.

"Because we're the older brothers, it's their job not to listen."

Canada nodded in agreement and exasperation.

America finally stood up and kicked a leg on a chair, proudly exclaiming, "We're finished dudes, time for demon summoning!"

"Are you sure you won't get scared America?" Canada quietly protested, trying to appeal to his brother's scaredy-cat nature when it came to horror movies and games. "You know how you are."

"Nothing can scare me after hearing what this guy classifies as animals!" America said, gesturing to Australia with his thumb.

"I take that as a compliment… I think." Australia looked off into the distance to try and evaluate whether he should be proud of scaring America or offended that America thought his animals were anything less than adorable.

Canada sighed softly, "Let's get this over with please, I just want to sleep and wake up tomorrow to maple syrup and pancakes."

"Agreed." New Zealand chimed in, strangely ok with what was going on.

"Ok then gentlemen and maple-heads" a soft protest was heard from Canada, "let's do this thing!"

Australia flicked off all the lights in his house and let the candles glow ominously from the floor. America had won the rock-paper-scissors battle so he didn't need to read out the chant, and Australia was happy to accept the duty.

Canada started to feel nervous as Australia flicked over to the incantation page. They had no idea who put that thing on Australia's doorstep, for all they knew it was Russia trying to turn them all into toads. However, the only other person who seemed to agree with him was New Zealand, and he'd given up trying to sway his brother about two minutes into the debate after being side-tracked arguing about who created Pavlova first.

"Anglia daemonium - crikey Latin is hard, no wonder it's a dead language- Anglia daemonium est, tu scis." Australia proclaimed hand over the ritual circle.

Suddenly all the candles blew out with a startling wind crashing through the house. It was cold as ice and suddenly both New Zealand and Canada were very grateful that they'd swaddled themselves in blankets.

America let out a few curse words, expressing his apparent dislike for the way things turned out, and if Canada could talk over his chattering teeth he'd have said 'I told you so.'

As the wind slowly died, the four nations sat in silence, waiting warily for a demon to come and try take their souls or something. Canada didn't know if the silence or the howling wind was scarier, but from the fact that America was now hiding behind him, he figured the answer was clear for his brother.

The silence was thicker than Australia's leg hair.

Then…

"What a waste of time!" Australia exclaimed, causing the others to jump. "We didn't even get to see a de-"

Just as he tried to finish his sentence a blinding light drowned out his words along with a clap of thunder.

The candles in the room all lit at once, the red glow of fire much less comforting than the previous darkness, especially when they were a foot high now. The symbols on the ground slowly disappeared, leaving a black stain on the ground that looked like ash, and there in the middle of it all was a hooded figure with it's head in shadow.

"I-is that..?" Canada mumbled, but went largely ignored.

"Haha- this was fun- let's split!" America laughed nervously, but made no move to leave.

The hooded figure started to move and even Australia had situated himself next to the others. Considering it was halloween and the spookiest time of the year, having a malevolent spirit in your house was probably a bad idea, but as it lifted it's head, not one nation expressed this revelation out loud.

"How rude, I was just about to take my scones out of the oven," England huffed from the middle of the circle, pushing down his hood. "Honestly, I raised you all, how did not one of you come out with manners?"

"E-England?" Canada's eyes were blown wide.

England looked down at himself, "Well yes, who'd you expect, Santa claws?"

"Dude no way, we were trying to summon a demon!" America was no longer behind Canada and on his feet. "How come you're here?!"

England sighed, "Well you tried to summon a demon and I'm here in the middle of your living room, why do you think?"

America went silent, lips moving but no sound coming out.

"I'm either hammered right now or England's a demon." Australia managed to get out.

England gave him an unimpressed look.

"Ok, not drunk, only the real England could look that disappointed in me." Australia confirmed with a nod.

"Is no one going to question this?" Canada said, obviously distressed.

"If all you summoned me here for was a lousy Halloween prank then I must be going," England shifted the hood back over his head. "I have scones to get back to. By the way, you're all grounded for playing with dark magic."

And with that, a blast of green light signalled his disappearance.

A thick silence was left in England's wake, no one daring to say a word. America was still gaping and every now and then his eye would twitch, Australia sort of looked miffed that he didn't get to see a demon, New Zealand had been largely quiet the whole time, and Canada…

"Is seriously no one going to question this?!"

。·:*:· 。·:*:· Some time the next day 。·:*:· 。·:*:·

"Ah, New Zealand." England opened his door with a smile.

"Hey England," New Zealand smiled, "nice prank last night, I'm honoured you asked me to help."

"Oh well, I knew you'd be the only one to not blab or refuse," England said, letting him inside, "and you did a remarkable job, I don't think they suspected a thing."

"You'll be glad to know America's still not recovered," Zea chuckled, "Australia's mostly just disappointed he didn't get to see a real demon and Canada was having a crisis last time I checked."

England smiled, "Two out of three isn't bad."

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask," New Zealand sat on England's couch, "How'd you rig the spell up to make you appear in the centre? I know it wasn't a real demon spell, but I'm still curious."

England set down his tea-cup and looked at New Zealand. Zea felt a cold shiver go down his back at the unexpectedly dark look in England's eye.

"Oh it wasn't rigged," he said carefully. "It really did summon a demon."

Happy Halloween.


	24. Hide and Seek (Family, angst)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Context: Myself and a friend entertained the idea that Australia would often get lost in England when he was little (on purpose mostly). So this is about little Australia's first time loosing himself in the big cities of England. This also takes place decently close to English colonisation (maybe a decade or two after or sometime in the very early 1800's), so Australia is pretty young.
> 
> And another thing, since Australia has so many wide open plains even now that it's got people living here, I thought that Australia would be uncomfortable with small spaces (and large crowds when he was younger). He'd be a lot more used to crowds as the years at England's went on and he wouldn't feel afraid at all now or even a few years after this fic takes place, but I still think he'd be claustrophobic.
> 
> Enjoy!

England was a lot more grey than Australia's own home. The sky was grey, the buildings were grey, the roads and clothes were grey. Australia didn't dislike the colour grey, it just got a little boring after a while. He wouldn't tell England this, since the older nation was always telling him to be more polite, but Australia saw no harm in thinking it.

It hadn't been too long ago that he was brought to England's home (maybe a decade or two). Or at least he didn't think so. Time always seemed to pass so slowly when it was just him and the bush, but here time passed quicker than a magpie's swoop. Everyone was always so busy, and when Australia asked England why that was he never seemed to give Australia a very good answer. Why were people so bent on work, and duties, and life, when they could just walk around for the fun of it? England had told him that wasn't how life worked for humans, and human's lives were very short, so they had to do everything fast.

Australia was very glad he wasn't human.

As he tried to keep pace with England's quick gait, it was all he could think about. How quick time flew in Britain, and how quick everyone needed to be not to get left behind. But Australia also thought it could be nice. They had something to propel them forward, something to tell them to keep going. Their time was short, but since it was, Australia supposed they liked to make it worth something.

If Australia were human, he would make his worth something by making England less grey.

Australia snapped out of thought as he saw England a few more steps ahead of him than he felt comfortable with. Aus ran a bit to catch up and latched onto England's hand to force him to slow down. Australia tried not to feel hurt when England flinched at the contact, but ultimately softened into it. It was a bit like that between them. How England would be surprised when he'd do certain things, and then sad for some reason after. Australia thought it would be rude to ask, so he guessed that when he was older he'd know.

But time wasn't fast for nations, so he envied humans for that.

Something that was different, was that England was so crowded. There were always people about, bustling and hustling and trying to be somewhere. So, so many people. It was like a river filling up in winter when rain would be in abundance. Australia wondered if the city would ever overflow and spill out into the others.

Australia drew closer to England as another person bumped into him. Australia much preferred his own land, but he'd never tell England that. He loved England's home, but it was always so fast, and tight, and spilling over. He longed for the space of his own sprawling desserts, where he only bumped against trees and rocks. Where he didn't feel as though everything was too close or too big. Where he didn't want to go back to England's house because he wasn't used to so many bodies and so many buildings. Where-

"Hey England?" Australia pressed closer to the older nation.

"Yes?" England glanced down at Australia.

"Can we go back to your house now?" Australia asked hopefully.

For some reason England's expression tensed at something he'd said, and England had to shake his head no.

"I'm sorry lad, but we still have a few blocks to go until the bakery."

Australia looked at the waves of people nervously and nodded in understanding. There were more people about than usual. Usually it wasn't a problem, but now he felt like a fly trying to stay out of a red-backs web, and from experience, he knew flies didn't last too long.

"Are you feeling ok?" England squinted suspiciously at him, but Aus could spot the concern.

"Ah, yeah, no worries…" Australia stepped closer to England's side.

England sighed, stopping on the side walk close to a building and bending down to be eye-level with him.

"Are you sure? If you're not feeling well I may need to ask my boss about business in your country." England levelled the back of his hand to Australia's forehead, but Aus pushed it away.

"I feel fine," Australia smiled with white teeth. "I just don't like… walking. Yeah, walking."

England frowned, a crease in his brow. "On second thought, why don't we go home anyway. I can always ask Canada to pick it up later."

"But, England I'm fine!" Australia whined. "Look, I'll sit here and not walk, and you go to your bakery!"

England scoffed, "You think I can leave you alone in the middle of London?"

"Of course," Australia said sweetly, "when have I ever wandered off?"

That elicited a small sarcastic laugh from England and Australia's heart swelled with pride. He'd come to the realisation that he liked making people laugh. Back home he didn't have anyone but the kookaburra's to joke with. It was one of the things he liked about Britain.

"Don't lie to me, I know full well you'd get lost in a heart beat…" England looked over his shoulder at the front of the bakery only across the street. "But I guess it's too close for you to really go anywhere."

"See," Australia pushed England in the direction of the shop, "I want do anything stupid! I'll be right!"

England seemed to have an internal battle going on before he finally deflated and relented.

"Alright, but I swear if you're gone but he time I get back," England said warningly.

"If I left I'd be more brain-dead than a koala who runs head first into a Dingo pack." Australia said.

England hummed in consideration.

"C'mon England!" Australia said. "I promise!"

England sighed, "I'm trusting you."

"I won't go anywhere."

England finally, finally, relented and walked across the street to the bakery and stepped inside.

As Australia soon found out, standing to the side of the hustle and bustle of London was worse than walking through it. He felt trapped in place, as if the crowd would slowly creep up on him and drown him in it's masses. Even pressing his back right into the wall behind him and crouching down did nothing to soothe the awful feeling. Australia took a deep breath and thought of his bush to make himself feel better. The billabongs and the eucalyptus trees, the snakes and the spiders, and even though its crowded there, it's not so tight and constricting. Nothing is ever moving, everything is still and peaceful and alive, but not alive in the way that city streets are alive, but alive in the way that time can slow or stop and you'd never know the difference, and the only things that could sweep you away are the creeks, and they'd only do that if you fell in, but here in England they'd sew you up anyway, one wrong step and you'd be carried away with the endless, endless tide that never seems to stop or pause or slow or-

Australia stumbled to his feet and quickly started running down the street, praying for some sort of alley way or abandoned house to sit in. He just didn't want to be in the way of all the people and carriages and artificial noises anymore, he just wanted to be somewhere open and alone, somewhere without so many people, somewhere like his home with only animals and no daunting, buildings and hundreds of people and not enough space.

Thankfully, it wasn't long until he found just what he was looking for, the perfect spot and it wasn't too far away at all. At least he thought.

Time was faster in England, but now it seemed to slow.

Australia sat against the alley wall, all the way to the back and dirtiest part. He didn't mind though, since he'd usually spent his days dirty in his country. But English dirt was different to Australian dirt, and he found he didn't like it at all. So he sat and he calmed himself down and he said it was fine, and it was, because it wasn't as loud anymore, and nor was it as grey, and for a moment Australia couldn't place why it wasn't grey when grey was such an England thing, and surely no one had taken a paint brush and suddenly filled the world in with charcoal black.

When he realised he couldn't see his hands in front of his face, he worked it out.

Panic set in a lot more fiercely than it had when he'd been worried about the crowds. The crowds weren't even as thick anymore, and as he walked quickly down the roads he realised he didn't like that as much as he thought he would. The sky was dark, but not the same type of dark at his place. This dark was completely black and blue, but his dark was light up with white stars that he could use to find his way around.

Dread creeped up in his spine like snake was slithering around in his skin. He could feel tears prickle in his eyes, he could tell that it was getting harder to breath, he knew he was just running in circles now because he had no idea where he was and where he needed to go and the stars couldn't help because there were no stars and-

"Hey there, are you lost?"

Australia sniffled and turned around, voice caught up and stuck in his throat as he nodded.

"I thought so," the lady gave him a pitying look and held her hand out to him. "Would you like some help finding your parents?"

Australia nodded and took her hand, finding it warm, but not as warm as England's.

"Where did you last see your family?" she asked, and her voice was like the maple syrup Canada liked to eat.

"Across from a bakery…" Australia wished the lady was England, but he knew that was unfair and that he should be grateful.

"Ah, there's only one around here, so I think I know which," she said reassuringly.

Australia felt a wave of relief crash into him as he let out a grateful smile. The lady seemed to like his smile and she smiled back. It felt easier to breath now that he had a plan, and he couldn't wait to see England and beg at his feet for forgiveness no matter how much of his dignity it destroyed. All he wanted was to be with England and go home…

Huh, he called England's house home…

"Who's your father, love?" the kind woman asked him.

Well, he was a nation, so technically he didn't have a father. But, Australia guessed he should say the closest thing to it so the woman wouldn't get suspicious.

"England." Australia said, and was confused when the woman frowned.

"England? Do you not have parents dear-"

"AUSTRALIA!"

Aus let go of the woman's hand and spun around at the sound of his name, a massive smile stretching across his face. He felt the pressure that had built up from his time wandering alone released along with a few tears that he wouldn't acknowledge. As soon as Australia caught sight of a head of blonde hair and massive eyebrows, he went running.

Australia tackled into England and tried, but failed to coil his arms right around the nation's middle. England dropped to the floor to let Australia hold him better, or maybe Australia had run into him too hard? Australia laughed in relief and sent a hundred apologies into the crook of England's neck. He always smelt like tea and something slightly burnt, but it was the most comforting thing Australia had ever had the pleasure of being smothered with. He could feel the lady from before looking fondly at them, judging from the prickling on the back of his neck that was always there when he was watched.

When Australia pealed away from Britain, he got a good look of the city around him, and it was like he'd never seen it before.

England wasn't grey at night, it was the most beautiful colours. It was orange and yellow from the lights inside every window, it was blue and purple from the elegantly plain sky, and even when it was grey and crowded and dirty, Australia couldn't have cared less because it only made the brighter parts more spectacular.

England's hands went to his face as he scanned every corner, "You're not hurt are you? I should never have left you alone, I was so stupid to think-"

"I'm ok," Australia smiled and wrapped his hands around England's wrists to stop him. "Really, I'm fine."

The tension and fear in England's face slowly drained away, and Australia was thankful for that.

"Then why the BLOODY HELL WHERE YOU NOT THERE WHEN I CAME BACK?!" England roared, face a deep shade of red from anger.

Australia suddenly felt very small and very guilty.

"I told you to stay put!" England lectured, but Australia wasn't exactly paying attention. "Do you know how worried I was?! You couldn't possibly know how terrified I was that someone had taken you!"

"England-"

"You don't know how bad this all could have gone!"

"England-"

"You had better have one hell of a reason for running off like that-"

"England-"

"Because you promised me you would stay there, and I spent the entire day searching for your sorry butt-"

"England!"

"You're a young country, I couldn't even feel your presence, do you know how awful that is?!"

"ENGLAND!"

"WHAT?!"

Australia wrapped his arms around his neck again, "I'm sorry I ran off! I didn't wan to make you upset, please don't cry."

"I'm not-" England started to say, aghast, but stopped himself short when he reached up to his cheeks.

"I'm sorry I ran away, can we just go back home?" Australia just wanted to curl up in his bed and sleep for a thousand years.

"… Alright, we'll go home, but this isn't over," England sighed and stood up, taking Australia with him and settling him on his hip.

England looked at the woman and smiled in gratitude, "Thank you for finding him, I don't know what I would have done."

"You're welcome," the lady smiled. "Although, you lot do have some peculiar names."

England chuckled a little awkwardly but eventually provided an explanation, "It's a bit of a tradition to name the men in our family after countries. Don't ask me why, I haven't a clue."

The woman seemed to accept that answer and left with a small goodbye.

As England begun the walk home, Australia felt his eyelids get heavy. The warmth from England's side, the darkness of the sky, and the steady rock up and down as he walked made him sleepy. It was a long day, so Australia was happy for it to end.

And time went slow in England as they walked home.

Not the same type of slow that Australia was used to when he was alone. This type of slow wasn't timeless and never-ending. This type of slow was one that he wished would never end, but the fact that it would made it all the more precious.

"England?" Australia yawned.

The older nation sighed, "Yes?"

"… I uhh…" He paused to form words in the muggy parts of his brain. "Thank you for finding me."

"Of course."

"If I had to be lost again, I'd want to be lost here."

"And why is that?"

"Because you'll always find me."


	25. Little Visitor (Friendship)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm super sorry about the feels in the last chapter, so here's something a little more bittersweet and funny!
> 
> Context: Again, thank you GalaxyWolf2.0 (from fanfic.net) for proposing the idea that Germany and Australia had met once when they were little due to Prussia and England.
> 
> I looked this up in google and unfortunately there was no way for Germany and Australia to have met when they were particularly young since Germany was formed in 1871 (or 1815 depending, but I think Himaruya meant for Germany to be formed when the states banded together, judging from the comic about his birth). So realistically, they would have to have met after the Eureka stockade, New Zealand colonisation, and the two would have been teenagers (at least Australia would have). And so I researched the soonest time in history that Germany and England would have to have relations and discovered the Anglo-German Agreement of 1890 which was signed on the 1st of July. However, when I dug deeper I was informed that Odo Russell had close relations with Bismark (due to him being the first British ambassador to the German Empire) around 1871-1884 which was his term in English office appointed as such.
> 
> So, realistically I can set up a meet for them around this time where Germany is youngish and Australia is a teen (13 maybe). Also, it said in the manga strip about the formation of Germany that Germany was born older than other nations because he already had a preexisting body (this is directly from the strip), so take that as you will.
> 
> Phew, that took some work!
> 
> Anyway, just as a warning, I don't know if this is entirely true, as wikipedia can be unreliable and I'm a bit too lazy to fact check right now, so take all this information with a grain of salt and don't quote me in any history assignments.
> 
> So here we go!
> 
> Enjoy!

It wasn't like Australia didn't like meeting new people. He loved new people, it was fun to make friends with others like him and even not like him. He liked learning about what they liked, what they didn't like and all that stuff.

But he didn't like itchy clothes.

He would much rather walk around in his birthday suit than be stuck in scratchy formal-wear, but England had told him time and time again that it wasn't polite to do so. It was apparently poor manners and savage and he should be grateful that he has clothes in the first place. And he was grateful! Just not when they're giving him a rash.

"Do we really need to dress-up?" Australia whined, wondering if New Zealand would join his protest this time.

"Yes," England said, fussing with the boy's collar.

"But why?" Australia groaned, crossing his arms.

"Because I said so," England said firmly, standing back to check his handiwork. Although Australia had been growing a lot recently, he had yet to pass England's stature at 175cm, but he was close. Very close.

He was going to out-grow that old man if it was the last thing he did.

"Why are you always the one complaining?" England grumbled. "New Zealand never says anything."

Australia looked to his older brother who was ironically a newer addition to the house than himself, "Because he's a suck-up."

"You're just jealous I'm the favourite," New Zealand whispered with a demure smile.

"See!" Australia exclaimed. "You never notice when he does anything wrong!"

"Australia be quiet and stop annoying your brother," England told him off and Australia made a noise of betrayal.

"Don't worry England, I'll make sure Aus doesn't scare off your friends," New Zealand said reassuringly.

"Thank you dear," England said absently, staring at the door.

"Did you not hear what he just said?" Australia huffed. "I wouldn't scare off your mates!"

"I'm sure you'd find some way," New Zealand sighed.

"Oi, rude!" Australia punched New Zealand in the arm.

"Australia cut it out," England snapped. "There's no need to hurt your brother."

"But-"

"No buts, they're here."

New Zealand sent Australia a smile, poorly concealing the smugness.

"Damn kiwi…" Australia mumbled disdainfully.

England sent him a look and Australia closed his mouth. The door they all stood in front of was one Australia knew well, and not a thing had changed about it since he'd first laid eyes on it. Maybe except the dent in the handle… he could take responsibility for that.

England opened the door with a poised smile when a few knocks singled the arrival of their guests. The first person Australia saw was a tall pale man with silver-white hair and purple-red eyes. The man was grinning widely, and Australia couldn't help but think of it as a mischievous smile.

"Hallo England!" the tall man said excitedly, giving the man an enthusiastic hand-shake.

"Hello Prussia," England nodded before looking behind the man. "And hello to you as well Germany."

From safely behind Prussia another boy stepped forward stiffly, eyes trained to the ground as he shook England's hand and muttered an introduction. The kid wasn't that young, maybe a few years or so younger looking than Australia himself, with light blond hair and blue eyes.

But… England said Germany formed in 71… how could he have grown up so fast?

"It's very nice to meet you Germany, my ambassador has said great things about you," England smiled. "Would you like to meet my colonies?"

Germany looked to Prussia then nodded.

"This is New Zealand, and this is Australia, I hope you three can get along well," England put a hand on New Zealand's shoulder.

"Hello Germany, it's nice to meet you," Zea extended his hand and shook it with Germany's.

What was with all he hand-shaking? It was so boring!

"Hallo, it is nice to meet you as well," Germany said softly, his accent close to Prussia's.

England sent a warning look in Australia's direction, but he pointedly ignored it and grinned impishly.

"G'day Germany!" He exclaimed, relishing the wince from England and he clapped the younger boy on the back. "It's great to meet you, I hope we become right good friends!"

Prussia snorted in amusement and hid his face behind a hand to stop a snicker. Germany on the other hand looked very confronted and red in the face as he nodded along. Australia took pride in the visitor's reactions and smirked at England.

"S-so do I?" Germany mumbled, looking at Prussia for help.

"I like these two, England," Prussia snickered at England's silent mortification, but quieted down when Germany tugged harshly on his coat.

"Ok, ok, let's go inside west," Prussia ruffled the boy's hair and walked in.

England thought that was a very good idea, and judging by the look he gave Australia, he was in for it after the two Germanic countries had left.

It was so worth it.

New Zealand also looked embarrassed at Australia's antics and that made it double worth it.

Soon enough, England and Prussia decided that politics weren't for children and told them to go and get to know each other. Australia was excited, he didn't really have any friends apart from Canada and New Zealand… and maybe Scotland, but he had the sneaking suspicion Scotland was about as fed up with him as England at this point. No matter, Germany would be his friend by the end of the day or his name wasn't Australia!

"So, what do you like to do in your free time?" Australia said, seated on the ground in a circle with the other two nations.

"Um, read." Germany replied.

"What type of books?" New Zealand prompted.

"History books, war tactics, poetry, and sometimes fairy tales." Germany blushed in embarrassment at the last bit.

"That sounds so boring!"

"That sounds really interesting!"

New Zealand gave Australia a look.

"What?" Australia threw his hands in the air. "It is boring. Who wants to read about all that?"

"Obviously Germany does," New Zealand scolded him, "and I think it's sweet aa- uh, I mean swell." New Zealand stumbled on the slang and held back a glare when Australia laughed.

"Danke," Germany muttered to Zea, "but it's ok, Prussia says it's boring too."

"Me and Prussia would get along, mate," Australia smiled. "Hows about we all head upstairs?"

"I'd prefer to stay down here," New Zealand said and Germany nodded.

Australia frowned and shrugged, "Suit yourselves."

The young nation walked away a bit of a huff, deciding that those two were just boring and it wasn't worth his time to talk with them anyway. But after spending a few minutes in his room, his view changed a bit. He supposed it wouldn't be that boring to talk to them, plus, he could always offer to show them Robbo (his mouse). However, those two seemed to have other plans, as Australia stopped at the foot of the stairs to see the two happily chatting away like they were already best mates. It struck a bit of a nerve. Surely they couldn't be having that much fun without him? Australia crossed his arms and leant on the wall beside the door-way, deciding that it was a nice place to stand and sulk on his own.

"Hey mini-Austria."

Australia turned his head to see Prussia coming from down the hall. He'd probably been to the bathroom.

"Who's Austria?" Australia tilted his head.

That was a new one. If anything he thought he'd be called America again. Australia was very relieved he wasn't.

"Just an old priss I know," Prussia smirked, "he looks just like you."

Australia wrinkled his nose, "I look like a priss?"

Prussia snickered, "Yeah, but I can tell you're nothing like him."

Australia guessed that was better than nothing, but it rubbed him the wrong way. Apparently everything about him belonged to someone else now. His looks were Austria's and his personality was America's.

What fun.

"Why the long face?" Prussia leant agains the wall next to him.

Australia shrugged, "No reason, mate."

"Don't lie to the awesome Prussia," he said, "I see right through you."

Aus scoffed and didn't reply.

"Ah, the moody teenager phase," Prussia smirked. "I'm not looking forward to West getting there. Lord knows he'd only get more sullen and antisocial."

"I'm not moody," Australia fired back, but realised that in staying that he sounded moody, and promptly groaned.

Prussia seemed to find this supremely funny, "You know, you remind me of a certain country. I helped him out in a war when he was a bit older than you are now, I don't suppose England's mentioned Am-"

"America," Australia scowled. "Yeah, I know the guy. Gonna say I'm just like him, huh? Too bad, you're a few nation's too late to be the first."

Prussia went silent for a moment before nodding.

"Oh, so that's how it is," he said a little more seriously. "Don't worry bud, one day you'll make a name for yourself. Not 'America', not 'Austria', and not 'England's colony'… I can tell."

Australia looked up at Prussia past his brown hair, "Really?"

"Yeah, really," Prussia smiled, but this smile wasn't mischievous or smirking.

Australia couldn't help the ticking up of his lips as he averted his gaze to inside the door. He wanted to go and join New Zealand and Germany but they seemed to be doing fine without him. Plus, he'd taken off and called them boring, who said they wanted him back?

"You want to go join them?" Prussia guessed.

"Yeah, but I kinda called them boring and stormed out," Australia scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"Ah, don't worry about it," Prussia waved his concerns away, "West isn't the type to get hissy over something like that."

"I figured, but I don't have anything to talk about with them. I'm all outside-and-cause-trouble, while those two are all books-are-fun."

"As I said, don't worry about it," Prussia shrugged. "If you can't talk, then listen."

Hmm, listening sounded boring, but he guessed he could give it a try.

"Hey Prussia?" Australia's voice stopped the nation from leaving.

"Yeah kid?"

"How come Germany already looks so old?" Australia nodded to his brother sitting with the blond kid. "I mean, he was only formed, what, five years ago?"

Prussia looked uncomfortable for a second, "Eh, I don't know how nation's work." He avoided the question slightly. "But if you want, I'll give you a hint to making conversation with Germany."

Australia listened closely.

"Ask him about sword-fighting."

And that was how Australia ended up on the floor with a broom handle pointed to his throat, not even twenty minutes later.

Apparently Prussia still thought sword-fighting was a skill that held value in this day and age of guns and fire-arms. When asked about it, Germany was reluctant to give a demonstrated, but Australia though it was too cool not to see. And indeed it was, armed with a broom stick, Germany offered to teach him and Zea a few things. Apparently a sword was very different from a broomstick, but they did just fine. Eventually Australia got tired of whacking a tree out back and wanted to actually spar. Germany, again, was reluctant, but he'd seemed to warm up to Australia some time between him falling on his ass after trying to whack Zea and apologising profusely when he'd accidentally hit Germany in the back.

Australia huffed few breaths to make sure he didn't suffocate. Who knew sword fighting was so tiring?

"Es tut mir leid, I didn't mean to knock you over!" Germany tossed he stick aside and held out a hand. "You're not hurt are you?"

Australia laughed and took it, "No way mate, that was amazing! You beaut, if that was a real sword, I'd be done for!"

"Don't worry about him Germany, his head is hard enough to need a pick-axe to do any real damage." New Zealand said chuckled softly.

"Oi, rude!" Australia used Germany to haul himself up to stand. "But regardless, you fight well, I'd hate to have to verse you in a war."

Germany went red at the praise, "Danke, I could say the same about you and New Zealand. You fight well for nations who have not fought before. I don't see us needing to battle any time soon though."

Australia grinned, "Good that, or else we'd be screwed! Did you say you'd fought before?"

Germany shrugged, "Usually Prussia defends me, but yes, sometimes I have to."

Australia frowned a little but decided that Germany would only feel worse if he did. It didn't seem fair for Germany to have to fight. He was younger than him, and he looked it too. But that wasn't how nations worked was it?

"Oh well, you'll be a strong one I bet," New Zealand ruffled the boy's hair a bit, but it looked weird because New Zealand was only 5 inches taller.

Unfortunately, England then decided that him and Prussia's business was over and Germany had to leave. Australia was sad to see him go, but he hoped he'd meet him again some time. It was sort of sad that with nations that you sometimes wouldn't see each other for decades. But Australia guessed that was just the way it was.

Although, he could hope to see the soft spoken nation and his older brother soon.

There was nothing wrong with hoping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo in German is hello, Danke is thank you, and Es tut mir leid is I am sorry.


	26. Seek and Hide (Family, angst)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope you're having a lovely day!
> 
> Context: A Guest (on fanfic.net) suggested I write Hide and Seek but from England's POV, and I'm more than happy to do as such! Thank you for the suggestion!
> 
> Enjoy!

He was an absolute idiot.

What had he been thinking? Had he been thinking at all? Had his brain finally decided that after centuries of use it had enough of him and up and left? Apparently so, because why else would he ever leave his newest colony alone in the middle of London? Especially one with Canada's uncanny ability to disappear and ten times the mischievousness of Ameri-

England's feet slapped hard and fast against the stone pathways as he searched the near by streets. He couldn't have gotten too far, it had been barely five minutes since he'd left him across the street. Question was, where would he even go? Had he gone back to the house because he couldn't be bothered waiting? It seemed like something he would do. Maybe he saw a particularly pretty looking bug and followed it to kingdom come. Maybe he was fed up with England and had decided that anywhere was better than with him and had left just like-

England took a deep breath to gain is bearings.

He should come up with a plan, a good plan, a great plan, a plan that would work. What kind of plan? Step by step? Checklist? Instructional? I didn't matter it just had to be a plan, and a plan that would work. God, what plan could possibly work? He was stuck in the middle of London without a clue where his youngest colony could ever be, why he was gone, or how in the queen's name he'd ever find him.

"Hello, have you seen a little boy around?" England stopped one of his citizens and composed himself. "He's about this tall with brown hair?"

The man he'd stopped shook his head, "Sorry, I haven't seen him."

"That's ok, thank you for your help," England said quickly, taking off down another street.

England was getting slow in his old age it seemed. His body was in its twenties, but his mind had been with him for centuries, and after so long it seemed to have just stopped. Stopped because how else could he explain letting the boy stay across the street on his own? The boy that looked barely five years old, who was curious, daring, adventurous, silly, obnoxious, loud, rebellious-

England sharply reprimanded himself, old, muddy, and painful memories trying to break out of their little box in the back of his mind.

It hurt, oh yes it did.

The feeling of little hands in his, wide eyes so full of wonder, and sometimes the look he'd give him, so full of laughter and self-assurance, would be so awfully similar to another little boy he used to care for. He knew it was unfair, it was so unfair, but England knew he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop the dread that rose each time the boy tried to get closer, tried to reach out and find some sort of family with him. What a joke he must be. What a sick cruel joke. Both of them. He could barely hold back the tidal wave of skeletons in his closet, yet he was masquerading as a man to look up too. And that five year old child, he was reduced to a reminder, a ghost, another memory, all because England couldn't help but notice how history had a tendency to repeat itself, and this time... this time he wouldn't let it.

He wouldn't.

He really, really couldn't.

He wished he could turn back time. Just a few minutes. A few precious, tiny minutes. A minute was nothing, yet he knew from experience that time stopped for no man nor nation, no matter how hard they pleaded.

How long had he been looking? How long had his feet been dashing against the rocky pavements of his capital city? How long had it been since he actually saw where he was going instead of blindly loosing himself in any alley, back way, road, and street he could find?

He didn't know, oh lord, he didn't know.

It was dark, oh how bloody brilliantly. How wonderful, how magnificent, how utterly amazing. He'd been officially looking for hours, yet seen no sign that would lead him to his goal. The night was black, and dark, and sort of grey and colourless, and England was flabbergasted at how cold it was. Although, he guessed some of the chill he was feeling could have been entirely his own fault.

What fresh hell could possibly wait for him on the other side of this horrible day? He honestly didn't want to find out.

England could feel the tell-tale signs of hysteria rising in his throat, but he was determined to cut it off. If he started running around like a headless chicken, he wouldn't get anywhere, and worse, he might miss just the boy he was looking for.

England found himself cringing at the memory of earlier that day. He should have just gone back home when he had been asked too. He shouldn't have yielded so easily. He shouldn't have taken an earnest expression and a flimsy promise as a concrete deal. He shouldn't have flinched away when a small hand latched onto his. He shouldn't have, he shouldn't have, he shouldn't have, but he did.

And now he was paying for it.

Just thinking five minutes past finding that rascal left England feeling queasy. On one hand, he'd have to give him a scolding that transcended any he'd ever given before, but on the other hand what if he couldn't because the smile had been wiped clean off the kid's face for seemly ever? God, that thought if anything left him feeling faint. He didn't know what he'd do if he found that boy in any condition less than bright-eyed and smiling. If only he was older, anything but a young nation with barely any presence. Even when he was right next to him, England knew his nation's presence was dim, and in a city like this, a lack of it could mean anything from he's too far away to…

No, no, don't think like that. He's fine. He has to be.

But the feeling of loneliness, the knowledge that he should feel something but he didn't, was maddening. It was an awful feeling, and from experience he knew things could go very wrong very fast. He tried so hard not to imagine every one of those things, but lord was it getting harder as he backtracked to the bakery. A little boy all alone in the middle of a busy city. No one would be able to pick out a scream from the hustle and bustle of the streets if it was cut off soon enough. No one would pay mind to a small body darting into an unsafe alley. If no one on the roads saw, then England had no doubt that the other people who did would be much less pleasant to encounter. He knew well enough what humans were capable off, what any living thing was capable off. And knowing this made England's heart race just a little bit faster, his stomach drop a little bit further, and his feet move a little bit faster.

Horrible, horrible things could have happened because he'd been lazy, because he'd been weak, because he'd been reminded at the worst possible moment who his little colony reminded him off. He knew that anything that happened wouldn't be permanent, that nation's aren't mortal like humans, but that seemed to only make it worse. Someone should be there, anyone should be there when a nation first… when they first… oh for the love of the lord, he couldn't even think it. He couldn't even bare the thought of being alone in some dirty hell-hole, left to rot. It was going to make him sick-

Wait.

England stopped in his tracks, previously sparkling business shoes worn and dirty from the day. There was a little tug in the back of his mind, the hair on his neck standing a bit, a small flicker of something and he knew exactly what it was.

England's pale face exploded with relief, so much of it he almost fell onto the ground. Every muscle in his body felt weak, but he took off running as hard and fast as he could before that little light flickered out. The grey world around him blurred slightly as he almost slipped on the uneven stone, barreling around a corner.

There, next to a woman was a head of brown hair with two stubborn licks sticking out. He didn't even care that he looked a mess, didn't care that there could be people around, didn't care about anything but the little boy that was about to walk away from him.

"AUSTRALIA!"

England felt a wave crash into him when his boy turned around, so fast he wouldn't be surprised if he got whiplash. That beaming smile could light up the whole of Britain in a storm, and when he crashed into him, England saw no reason to stay standing.

He was exhausted, and relieved, and wary, but the sound of a million apologies being spoken into the crook of his neck made any other thought disappear. He'd found him, and he was ok- wait, was he ok?!

"You're not hurt are you?" England grabbed Australia's face in his hands and moved it every which way to make sure there wasn't a single scratch on him. "I should never have left you alone, I was so stupid to think-"

"I'm ok," Australia smiled and stopped England's hands. "Really, I'm fine."

He was fine, truly fine. It was music to England's ears, and just what he needed to remember how they got to this situation in the first place. Because for all the pain Australia had put him through, he was going to be damned if the nation got off scott-free.

"Then why the BLOODY HELL WHERE YOU NOT THERE WHEN I CAME BACK?!" England roared, every moment of worry, pain and fear burning through his skin like a thousand fires.

"I told you to stay put!" England lectured, a raging storm thundering in his head. "Do you know how worried I was?! You couldn't possibly know how terrified I was that someone had taken you!"

"England-"

Oh no he didn't, he had a million things to get off his chest.

"You don't know how bad this all could have gone!"

How horribly, awfully bad.

"England-"

"You had better have one hell of a reason for running off like that-"

He had promised him.

"England-"

"Because you promised me you would stay there, and I spent the entire day searching for your sorry butt-"

The entire day feeling lost.

"England!"

"You're a young country, I couldn't even feel your presence, do you know how awful that is?!"

So, so lost.

"ENGLAND!"

England smothered an awful noise of pent up emotion and wondered why the cold air stung so cool on his face.

"WHAT?!"

Australia wrapped his arms around his neck again, "I'm sorry I ran off! I didn't wan to make you upset, please don't cry."

Crying?

"I'm not-" England started to say, stunned, but stopped himself short when he reached up to his cheeks. They were indeed wet with salty tears, two parallel tracks running down his face.

"I'm sorry I ran away, can we just go back home?" Australia wilted slightly into England's arms, obviously feeling as tired as the older nation.

Home… England couldn't help but feel warm for his house to be called as such.

"… Alright, we'll go home, but this isn't over," England sighed and stood up, taking Australia with him and settling him on his hip.

No, it wasn't over. They really had to talk, and England had to think. He needed to know why Australia had run off, and he needed to tell him that it wasn't ok. Words needed to be said, but they didn't need to be said now.

England looked at the woman and smiled in gratitude, "Thank you for finding him, I don't know what I would have done."

He really doesn't.

"You're welcome," the lady smiled. "Although, you lot do have some peculiar names."

Oh, yes, he forgot about that. In the heat of the moment he neglected the use of human names, but after so many years alive, he had a few excuses up his sleeves.

England chuckled awkwardly, "It's a bit of a tradition to name the men in our family after countries. Don't ask me why, I haven't a clue."

Last time he used that one, someone had asked who was called France and he felt he'd gone a little over board about a third cousin of his, four times removed, that was the most annoying being on the planet.

The woman accepted that answer and left with a small goodbye.

England wasted no time in starting the walk home, Australia snuggling sleepily into his shoulder.

"England?" Australia yawned.

Yep, he would probably be carrying a sleeping nation home tonight.

England sighed, wary but soft, "Yes?"

"… I uhh…" Australia paused.

England wasn't sure what he wanted Australia to say after that, but if it was some sort of joke, he'd kill him. "Thank you for finding me."

Oh. Well what else would he have done? No matter how long it would have taken, he knew he would never have left those city blocks without Australia with him. He was too young, too small, too happy, too bright and mischievous and deceptively adorable to ever forget. England wouldn't leave him, not now, not ever, and he hoped it was the same the other way around.

"Of course." He settled for a short answer, and he guessed that was good enough.

"If I had to be lost again, I'd want to be lost here."

"And why is that?" England hoped Australia would never get lost regardless, but he supposed that was too much to ask for.

"Because you'll always find me."

England couldn't argue with that even if he tried.


	27. Merry Christmas (Friendship)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, MERRY CHRISTMAS (if it is where you are)! I hope your day has been absolutely wonderful! If you don't celebrate Christmas, I still hope you have a wonderful festive season filled with love and fun!
> 
> Context: Just a nice Christmas story for the holiday cheer! Although, you should probably know that Australia currently holds the world record for most Christmas lights on a house and on a tree. Also, Finland is, as usual, Santa.
> 
> This is rushed, and it really shows, and I'm super sorry about that. I've been busy of late, but I really wanted to churn something out! So despite my laziness, I hope you like it!
> 
> Enjoy!

"I'm telling you, cold Christmas is best Christmas!" America's loud voice echoed through the phone that was placed in the crook of Australia's neck. He would be holding it out at about an arm's length if he had free hands, but alas, his ears had to suffer.

"No way mate, hot Christmas is so much better!" Australia argued, absently focusing on not falling off his roof.

"Nuh uh! Hot Christmas is super weird dude!" America defended, a noise from the other side of the phone telling Australia that he was probably wrapping presents.

How ignorant, obviously a warmer Christmas was way better than freezing your ass off. You could spend your day at the beach, at a park, inside, practically anywhere you wanted! If it was cold, you'd never want to step foot in the ocean, you'd be suffering outdoors, and inside would be the only escape from a frozen wasteland. So yes, Australia preferred his own climate around this time of year.

"I'm telling you, you're wrong. What can you even do when outside is zero degrees? Nothing. Crikey, I know I'd get bored out of my mind," the brunette adjusted the phone on his shoulder quickly as he plugged in another cord, the motion also carrying to the other side of the device.

"You can do so much!" America instead, sounding appalled. "You can watch movies, sit by the fire, have snowball fight, make snowmen, and drink hot cocoa!"

"Yeah, but that's no fun!" Australia's grip slightly slips from it's perch on the gutter, giving the Aussie a bit of a scare, but not causing any damage. "You can do all those things in summer too!"

"You can't make a snowman in summer!"

"You can make a sandman," Australia smirks.

"It's not the same thing!"

Australia laughs, a jolly sound that playfully rang across the expanse of his home. Finally he transferred the phone to his hand, stretching out the tension rising in his neck where it bended awkwardly to hold the device. Australia knew he had a lot more work to do until he completed his self-given mission, but for a moment he gave himself a break. His neighbouring country had also graciously offered to help as well (was annoyed into it) so Australia couldn't expect him to keep at it all day like he himself would probably do.

"Alright Zea, let's take a break!" he shouted in the direction of nothing in particular, hoping his brother could hear him.

A few moments later a very relieved New Zealander stepped into view under his ladder, "Thank goodness, I'd have dragged you down myself if you'd waited another second. You're gonna get heat stroke like this."

"Oh well, if that's the price to pay," Australia jumped off the last few steps of said ladder he was climbing down and sighed happily.

"What're you even doing dude?" America asked curiously, their previous argument on hold.

"Nothing much," Australia skirted around the question. "Just preparing for tomorrow. You'll be at the big Christmas party right?"

"It's at my party bunker dude, how could I not be there?" the US of A scoffed.

"You once didn't show up for your own Halloween party because you got distracted trick or treating," Australia reminded him.

"You were with me!" America shot back.

"True, but also not really his point," New Zealand chipped in.

"Zea's here too?!" America exclaims happily. "Hey New Zealand, wassup dude?!"

"I'm good thank you America, but maybe keep your voice down, unless you want anyone in a fifty mile radius to go deaf," New Zealand took the phone and smiled at it, even though America couldn't see him.

"Sorry dude, forgot my inside voice," America apologised just as happily, but with a lower tone.

"No worries," New Zealand handed the phone back to Australia. "I'll head inside and grab some more lights bro."

Australia winced as New Zealand went back inside, completely unaware (or so he thought) of the damage he caused with those few simple words.

"Did he say lights, as in Christmas lights?" America asked suspiciously.

"Haha, no, of course not mate, he meant light bulbs, a few blew on my veranda so yeah haha," Australia chucked nervously, sweat that wasn't for the heat forming on his brow.

"You're not rubbing in my face the fact that you hold the record for most Christmas lights on a house again are you?" Australia could practically see America's suspicious squint at the screen.

"… no."

Australia held the phone out at an arm's length.

"… maybe just a little."

"DUDE, LOW BLOW! HOW COULD YOU?! WHERE'S YOUR CHRISTMAS SPIRIT?!" America's voice felt like it was on loud speaker, causing New Zealand to start laughing at his misfortune from inside the house.

"I'm sorry mate, but you know how it is!" Australia tried to defend himself.

"NO I DON'T! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY TIMES RUSSIA HAS USED THIS AGAINST ME?! IT'S HIS NUMBER ONE GO-TO IN AN ARGUMENT! ANYTHING I SAY IS MET WITH 'But you don't have world record for most Christmas lights anymore, da? How disappointing for you.' IT'S AGONY!" America ranted at a hundred miles an hour and showed no sign of stopping.

Australia guessed that this would take a while and he didn't have the heart to hang up on the other nation, so he took his phone with him inside. His house was a bit messy, with about a hundred empty and non-empty Christmas light boxes tossed about the place, but he easily picked his way through the mess and sat at his kitchen island with New Zealand, who looked way too proud of himself.

"Kiwi I hate your guts," Australia tossed his screaming phone onto the table and glared at his brother.

"Aww, love you too bro," New Zealand ruffled the brunette's hair in an affectionate yet annoying way.

"I'm getting you back for this."

"Sure you are."

"I really am."

"I have no doubt."

"Don't patronise me, I'm the deadliest nation this side of the equator, I will destroy you!"

"Of course you will…"

Australia glared harder, but ultimately relaxed and let America's shouting turn into white noise.

"By the way, technically most of the world has a cold Christmas, so our climate at this time is the weird one."

"HOW DARE YOU!"

❄~*❄*~*❄*~❄ 5 o'clock in the morning on Christmas day ❄~*❄*~*❄*~❄

Ring, ring, ring.

"Wassup?" A very tired, very slurred voice answered the phone.

"G'day America!" Australia shouted.

"Ahhh… loud… hi…" America mumbled. "Why did you call so early?"

"Merry Christmas mate," Australia chuckled.

America murmured, "… Merry Chrysler…"

Australia begun a mental countdown.

5

4

3

2

1-

"DUDE IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

There it was.

Australia laughed, "Crikey, took you long enough."

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY NEW YEAR, ALL THAT STUFF!" the shuffling from the other side of the phone indicated that the blond nation had jumped out of bed excitedly. "I can't wait to see what Finland's brought!"

"I can't wait either," Australia grinned, "but I need to call everyone else, see ya later?"

"Definitely!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Merry Christmas~


	28. Nothing (Angst, family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> Context: I just wanted to write some sibling stuff with New Zealand and Australia, I have no excuse.
> 
> Also at the end of the chapter is some more about New Zealand and how the two brothers work in this series, since I've made him older unlike most fanfiction (and possibly canon). It's skippable though, since I'll just repeat it when it's important to a one-shot.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a wonder that the world meeting rooms never blew up.

It honestly baffled New Zealand more than he thought it could. Sure, they were technically prohibited from taking anything inside the building that was deemed dangerous, but Russia always had his pipe, Belarus a dagger, Australia some deadly animal, and others like Spain, Prussia, England, and France could materialise swords out of who-knew-where. So it was really only a matter of time before someone brought something explosive and someone else accidentally set it off like England's temper.

"New Zealand," Australia whispered close to his ear, obviously vying for his older brother's attention.

New Zealand sighed, "We have to listen to South Africa's speech, you can tell me later bro."

Australia fell silent.

New Zealand smiled, pleasantly surprised that his brother listened to him this time. No matter how much patience he had, usually the Aussie would just keep pestering him until he dragged him outside or told him off as harshly as he could while still in the middle of a meeting. It was a nice change, New Zealand decided, that his brother was finally-

"New Zealand," a finger came into contact with his cheek, "New Zealand, New Zealand-"

With every poke came his name, a never ending cycle of annoyance.

He was a fool to have hoped.

Still politely smiling for South Africa, New Zealand didn't even move his head when asking Australia to, "Please be quiet."

"New Zealand, New Zealand, New Zealand, New Zealand_"

He shuddered in annoyance.

"What is it?" He eyed his brother out the corner of his eye.

Australia stopped pestering him and shot a grin, "Nothing."

Then he started paying attention like he hadn't even done anything.

Mother Earth give him patience.

~~~~~~

It was a sunny day in New Zealand, as it usually was this time of year. The air was fresh, people strolled casually down the streets, and the big ball of plasma in the sky warmed the nation's skin pleasantly.

The Kiwi was, himself, walking to the nearest pharmacy for bandaids with his brother Australia by his side. It started when the Aussie thought he could balance on an umbrella to reach the cookie jar and went down hill from there. Aus wasn't hurt beyond a few minutes of nation super-healing, but the bandaid that was ever present on his nose had come loose.

"Y'know, you should probably re-stock your first aid box once in a while," Australia said as they rounded a corner, a hand covering his nose where the bandaid usually settled.

This was coming from the idiot who thought it was a good idea to fill his own with Vegemite as a joke.

"Well I get that now, thanks for the astute observation," New Zealand said with false cheer, still annoyed with his younger sibling.

"You're welcome," Australia looked pleased.

New Zealand waited precisely twenty two seconds.

"Hey wait!" Australia shouted indignantly.

New Zealand snickered as his brother punched him playfully, thoroughly amused at his own wit and Australia's obliviousness.

The conversation died down, probably to Australia's disappointment (he liked constant chatter a lot more than Zea cared for), and their saving grace was finally visible a few shops down.

"Hey Zealand, look out!" Australia suddenly yelled.

The island nation quickly ducked, bracing his hands over his head, "What is it?!"

He frowned when Australia started laughing, "Nothing!"

That little-

~~~~~~

"Why are you following me around?" New Zealand raised his eyebrow at Aus.

Australia grinned, "No reason."

He kept walking to his sheep paddock…

"Really, what'd you want this time?" New Zealand was getting suspicious.

Australia shrugged, still staying close behind his older brother, "Nothing."

The rest of the day was uneventful, thankfully, except for the fact that Australia spent the whole day with him like a very persistent leech.

~~~~~~

There was a ringing somewhere.

It was annoying.

He wanted it to stop.

It was comfy in his bed, he didn't want to move.

His head felt like it was filled with cement, the last dregs of sleep slowly emptying out his ears as he propped himself up on his pillow. Mourning his loss of sleep, the sheep-lover picked up the phone and answered the call, not registering who had even tried to phone him.

"Speak." He muttered groggily.

"Oh- uh- you picked up…"

Who was talking to him? He couldn't put a face to the voice…

"Who's this?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Uhh, your sheep?"

"Nice try Aus, I'm tired not wasted," New Zealand said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh well crikey, haha, pranks, g'night-"

"What's wrong Aus?" New Zealand sighed.

A short pause came from the phone, long enough for New Zealand to furrow his brow in worry.

"… Uh- nothing!"

Beep!

He hung up…

~~~~~~

The television was background noise at this point. Just mindless buzz in the back of New Zealand's brain. He was so tired from being awoken by Australia on the phone that morning, and unfortunately couldn't get back to sleep after it. If he was being honest, he was a bit worried about his little brother.

He tried calling him again throughout the day, but Australia insisted it was nothing.

Just nothing.

The rain outside picked up a bit, a lulling but insistent sound.

New Zealand's head almost hit his table as he zoned out, exhaustion catching up with him thick and fast. He spent most the day outside with his sheep, which was usually relaxing, but turned into a mess once he realised a few were missing. He basically spent ten hours running around feeling frantic for his sheep, worried for his brother, and dreading the nation work that was backing up.

It was only eight at night and he still had paperwork to do, but it wasn't anything he couldn't do the next morning if he went fast enough.

So, smiling in amusement at one of his sheep 'baa-ing' at him, New Zealand screeched back his chair, turned off the TV, and concluded his 'break'.

He was passing the living room door when he heard a knock through the patter of rain outside.

Was someone at his door?

New Zealand sighed, but guessed he should be flattered someone would walk up to his house in the rain. Smiling softly, but sleepily, he opened the door and froze.

"Aus?"

His brother looked genuinely shocked to find New Zealand at the door, as if he'd made half a plan and hadn't expected to get past the part he'd finished. After the shock wore off, a frightened animal expression spread across his wet-from-the-rain face, along with a good amount of doubt and embarrassment.

"You coming in bro? What is it?"

Australia seemed to snap out of his own mind and nervously laughed, which was a shaky sound, "Uh, nothing!"

He then turned around to leave, but New Zealand grabbed the back of his soaked shirt and pulled him back.

"Wow, crikey, that was a little forceful Zea," Australia said nervously, shuffling uncomfortably in his brother's door-way.

New Zealand looked up with worried eyes, "What's wrong Australia, and don't lie to me."

With the rain pouring relentlessly behind him, Australia slowly let his shoulders fall, his head ducking low as if he wanted to hide his face behind his hair.

"It- it's nothing," he stammered, a shaky edge slowly spreading across his voice.

His brother was too stubborn for his own good, New Zealand noted, not for the first time. He had a habit of shying away when something was wrong, like it was a shameful secret he needed to keep from getting out. It wasn't very hard to see through, though he was a lot better at it than when they were kids.

If Australia wouldn't do anything but stand on his porch bottling up whatever it was that was bothering him, New Zealand would have to get him to talk.

Sighing with both exhaustion and worry, he wrapped his arms around his brother's waist and hugged him close.

It was a little awkward at first, but as Aus slowly melted into it and it became more natural and reassuring. Nations may have had hundreds of years of experience in just about everything, but occasionally an eternity can build up a little.

"It's not nothing," Australia mumbled into New Zealand's shirt, a not very necessary comment, but an appreciated one nonetheless.

Sometimes nothing meant nothing, but sometimes it didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still here for the New Zealand explanation, thank you very much, I put some effort into making my headcanon plausible for the actual series!
> 
> Ok, I've already established previously, in accordance with this book, New Zealand had met England prior to Australian colonisation, making him the 'older brother'. I read the manga strips deciding who was older out of Canada and America to help with understanding whether my idea was plausible and apparently the laws of nation sibling-hood are pretty hard to wrap your head around. Canada is decidedly the older brother, but aged slower, and was at one stage seen as a toddler next to a pre-teen/teenaged America. So according to nationhood, you can look younger than your younger sibling… which is what I see New Zealand and Aus as. Eventually they'd level out and look the same age or only differ slightly, but at the start, NZ would look younger than Australia. I plan to write about this on it's own, but it is information you should know to avoid confusion.


	29. Do You Believe in Ghosts? (Supernatural, humour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, thank you for reading! How have you been? I hope everything's been going well!
> 
> Should I start to include Alternate universes one-shots? Up until now everything as been in-universe, but I'm wondering if I should divide this book into two sections, one with AU's and the other that could exist with canon. I'd love your input on this!
> 
> Context: Basically more bets between Australia and America with an unwilling Canadian and an excited Prussian thrown into the mix. I also live for these nations messing with each other, so there's that.
> 
> Enjoy!

"This is a bad idea," Canada said nervously, standing uncomfortably at the gates of a graveyard.

"Pr-probably, but I-I'm the hero so-so it's all g-g-good!" America stuttered, shivering from both the cold and the creepy atmosphere.

The pale moon was out in the night sky like a massive dinner plate, stars twinkling beside it like shards of glass. It was a clear but cold night, as winter slowly creeped up on autumn. Dead trees grew around the overgrown cemetery showing it's minimal maintenance. Overall, America could't have picked a spookier time or place for a picnic.

"Tell me again why I'm here," Canada said, pushing his way into the burial grounds.

"Be-because you love me and d-d-don't want me to d-die alone in a graveyard?" America said.

Canada considered it for a moment. A long moment.

"I'm starting to reconsider it," Canada muttered but America didn't hear.

"I d-didn't think that this would b-be so hard," America said. "I thought this w-was an easy win. Aus is m-more shifty th-than I thought. He k-knows I hate supern-n-natural s-stuff."

Canada shed his outer jacket and tossed it to his brother. His shivering was getting annoying and Canada already came from a cold country so he would be fine without the jumper on. Okay, maybe a tiny little part of him wanted his brother to feel better too. Plus, it had a Canadian flag on it too, so suck it America.

"T-thanks!" America couldn't get it on fast enough.

"What is it with you and Aus and these bets?" Canada said. "Every time you get the chance to see each other you spend your time dong something stupid. Why don't you just… enjoy each others company?"

America didn't seem to hear him and shortly after, a shout came from across the stone memorials.

"HEY LOSERS!" Someone yelled. "WHAT'S UP?!"

America screamed and latched onto Canada's arm like a koala, "GHOST!"

It wasn't a ghost, but it wasn't exactly far from it. Prussia could be seen in the distance past a few rows of large black stone, standing out like a sore thumb due to his pale head of hair and skin. His red eyes even added to the effect.

Prussia ran up to them and scowled, "Hey, I might be pale but I'm not a ghost!" he said indignantly.

"Oh, it's just Prussia," America said, removing himself from his brother's arm.

"What're you doing here?" Canada said.

"I heard there was a bet so I came to grace you with my awesome," he said.

"Is Germany here too?" Canada asked hopefully. He didn't think he could handle Prussia, Australia and America with only New Zealand as back up.

"Nope," Prussia said as if it didn't crush Canada's hopes and dreams, "I think Poland dragged him and Lithuania shopping or something."

"R.I.P dude," America said.

As the trio continued to the meeting spot in the eerie twilight, they refrained from any unnecessary chatter. Walking atop hundreds of dead bodies required some level of silence as not to feel like more of a disturbance then they already were, especially as they traveled deeper in. Canada wouldn't say that having a stroll through a graveyard was peaceful or pleasant, but there was something about being one of the only living things around that felt reflective.

As the three moved from behind a particularly large head stone, they saw the nation they were looking for. Australia was sitting down in the space between two graves and a tree on a red picnic blanket with candles and a basket, looking far too cheery for someone technically sitting on dead people.

"G'day guys."

"Hey man," America said, sitting down heavily on the blanket. "We picked up a ghost on the way here, hope you don't mind."

"I'm not a ghost," Prussia grumbled, "I'm just pale."

Australia and America snorted, reaching into the basket and pulling out some bread rolls.

"Where's Zea?" Canada asked. He saw no reason in standing any longer then he had to, so he dragged Prussia to sit beside him with the others and the candles.

"He didn't want to come," Australia said. "Said something 'bout not wanting to get caught up in all these bets, but I got a replacement so jokes on him."

Prussia said, "Replacement? I don't see anyone else."

Australia grinned and reached into the basket before pulling out a little lizard. America jerked away in surprise, looking back and forth between the bread in his hand and the lizard in Australia's. It wasn't a very scary looking reptile, at least for Australian standards. It was largely grey and spiked, but had two small sandy splotches on the sides of it's head.

"S'a Tuatara," Australia said. "They're only found at Zea's place so I thought the little sucker could stand in for his country."

"Of course you did," Canada said.

"Cool!" Prussia said, reaching out to pet it's head. "Hallo New Zealand two-point-oh!"

New Zealand 2.0 blinked.

Canada guessed that his probability of surviving the night dropped about 50 percent.

The bet wasn't all that dangerous to begin with, which was a nice change. All they had to do was spend the whole night in the graveyard and get out at sunrise without leaving. Beyond that, there were no rules. Canada had no idea why America had agreed to it given his fear of the supernatural, but his brother had always been stubborn and it was unlikely to change. America could also be crafty when he wanted to, but so could Australia. Canada wondered if either had a plan on how to get the other to leave.

"How's about we tell ghost stories?" Australia said.

America bit his lip nervously, "H-how about not?"

Australia grinned, "Y'aren't scared are you?"

"N-no," America said, "I'm just tired. Why don't we just… sleep?"

"Absolutely not," Prussia said, "I came here for fun not a literal snooze fest!"

"You can just play games on your phone or talk to Canada," America said. "Sleep it where it's at!"

"You're just scared that a ghost'll come and posses us," Prussia said. "Maybe they're just waiting for the right moment."

"Th-that's not funny," America stuttered. "They can pr-probably hear you!"

"Oh yeah?" Prussia grinned. "Come out, come out ghosties! I got some friends who want to meet you!"

"No!" America protested, trying to shove a hand over the other nation's mouth.

"Show yourselves you glorified bed sheets!"

"Prussia please, I'm begging you dude!"

"America wants to meet you! He told me himself!"

"NO I DON'T!"

"Yes he does!"

SNAP!

America and Prussia screamed as a massive snap and crunch filled the air. Canada's hands flew up to cover his head, thinking a branch above him was going to fall and Australia held his lizard protectively. The four nations sat in the deafening silence with varying levels of fear on their faces.

"That was just… a coincidence," Australia said, the lizard in his hand looking just as scared as him.

Another snap echoed throughout the cemetery.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no, Prussia you summoned a ghost!" America shouted, his voice stretching across the whole burial ground.

"I didn't think it would work," the Prussian confessed, looking nervous.

The Tuatara in Australia's hands started scuttling about, trying in vain to break free from his care-taker.

"Crikey Newer New Zealand, what're you doing?" Australia said, voice slightly shaky.

"He can sense the ghost!" America cried.

"I doubt there's a-" Canada was interrupted by another louder crash.

"Wait, Zea Number Two, stop it!" Australia tried to calm the frantic animal, but all it wanted to do was get away.

"I think New Zealand Two want's to leave, Aus," America said, "and so do I."

"Dammit, okay," Australia got to his feet. "Stay away from my substitute brother you bloody ghosts!"

The others slowly rose to their feet and looked around nervously.

"BE GONE!" A loud, raspy voice shrieked at them in a distorted tone.

Australia swore viciously, almost jumping out of his skin. He took one look at the terrified animal he was holding and ran like the wind tot he exit. Prussia shoved Canada in front of him and started pleading for the ghost to stay away from him and take the North American brother instead while the nation in question stood still in terror.

What was happening?

"YES!" America cried, pumping his fist in the air as he heard the gate shut that singled Australia's leave from the cemetery. "I WIN!"

Canada glanced at his brother, sure he'd gone crazy.

"Uh, America, are we not going to talk about the ghost?" Canada said, voice thin as mist and feather light.

America turned to them and grinned, "What ghost?"

From behind the tree they sat at, a pleased looking England sauntered out with a megaphone in his hand and his phone open.

"I'd say we did quite well, didn't we?" England said smugly.

"Y-you were the ghost?" Canada said.

"Yep," England smirked, "and I was a bloody good one too. Serves Australia right for leaving his spiders in my teapot yesterday."

"So there's no ghost?" Prussia said from behind Canada.

England rolled his eyes, "No. There's no ghost."

"I knew that!" Prussia exclaimed. "The whole time I was just fooling you!"

England stared blankly at him, "… sure."

"Isn't having England freak Aus out cheating?" Canada said.

"No one said I couldn't get help," America shrugged.

Canada sighed and started walking away, Prussia calling after him that he was sorry for using him as a human shield.

Next time he'd take a page out of Zea's book and just not show up.


	30. Bank Robbery (Crack, humour)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! I’m sorry this is another crack chapter instead of a serious one, but I thought it was funny so here we are.
> 
> Context: It’s a normal one-shot, but I write in all the accents. And to make it better (worse) the police think Australia robbed a bank with Russia in France. This is also SUPER rushed, has zero pacing and can’t follow a plot, so please take this as a not my finest work.
> 
> Also has a few swears, please be warned.
> 
> Enjoy… if you can even read this monstrosity. I suggest trying to say it out loud if you’re having trouble.

“Waell if this ain’t a laowd a rawtten luck,” Australia said, kicking his legs in a bored fashion.

“I agree,” Russia said mildly from beside him. “Zey seem to zink ve're ze ones who robbed ze bank.”

“I nodiced,” Australia said, pointing to the prison bars.

A French police officer rounded the corner, giving them a foul look. He had a portable phone on his person and the two nations guessed it was for their call. Both were decently familiar with getting in jail for things they didn’t (or did, let’s be honest here) do.

“You cahn only mahke one cahll,” the French officer said.

Everyone’s seen action movies, who doesn’t know they only have one call?

“Thanks fah that,” Australia said.

The officer scoffed in French and waited outside.

“Who should we corl?” Aus said.

“Zis is france's land, ve should kall him, da?” Russia folded his feet up into a more comfortable position.

“Yeah buh' haow lawng do yah think ih''ll take faw him t' geh' heah? We were wit’ Germany befoah all this, he's probahbly worried,” Australia said.

“Hmm,” Russia hummed, “what to do?”

A third unspoken option was to call Belarus and cause a massacre, but neither were in the mood to apologise to France’s government on her behalf.

“You dahne een zere?” the French man called.

If they were done, why the fuck wouldn’t they have said so?

“Yeah nah,” Australia said, “Steell wehkin on ih’.”

“Damn American,” the man muttered, not catching Australia’s offended gasp.

Before Australia could declare war, Russia dialled France’s number and held up a hand to signal for quiet. The phone rang a few times before being picked up, the French officer making a ‘tch’ noise for some reason.

“Bonjour?” France said.

“Ah, heello France! Australia and I are in predikament!” Russia said cheerfully.

France sighed, “Ziss ees ze pahlice numbair eesn't eet? Ah should hahve known.”

“They theenk we rawbbed a bighnk!” Australia said into the speaker.

Russia pushed Australia back like he was an overexcited puppy. 

“You deedn't rahb ze bank?” France said sceptically.

“Da,” Russia agreed.

He didn’t know why France was surprised to hear they were innocent. They were very moral people.

France made a noise that vaguely sounded like him giving up, “I'll be zere soon.”

He better. Russia was so close to just busting out. It would only take a minute tops. He had his pipe and all those guards had were guns. Too easy.

“I knaow whaht yaw theenkin so stawp theenkin ih’,” Australia said. “If we bust eow' now Japan is gaowin t' be too deesappointed in us t' evah hear eow' thaht anime idea of ours.”

Russia said, “I kould alvays force him too make it. Zen ve kould have our show and our fun.”

They took that Anime series very seriously. They were geniuses that would see their vision come to life.

“I daon't wanna be mean,” Australia said.

“You are too soft,” Russia pat his head. “You are like leetle rahbit.”

Australia growled. He was not soft. He was not small. He was not a little rabbit. He could bite Russia’s finger off if he wanted to… but Russia was pretty scary so maybe that was a bad idea.

“Ahm not little,” Australia muttered.

“Yees you are,” Russia said.

Before Australia could start grumbling again, the snotty French officer opened the cell and sneered at them like they were road kill. France came out from behind him, saying something politely in French before gesturing for them to follow him out. How France had gotten there so fast was beyond the two of them, maybe he just has a sixth sense as was already in the neighbourhood. 

The two nations followed him out, Australia blowing the officer a raspberry as he left.

“‘Ow deed you mahnage ziss?” France asked, unlocking his car in the parking lot.

“We was at the bighnk, right?” Australia said. “Then this guy rawbbed ih’. We went t' go see whaht hahppaened he laeft, so the cawps thaw' we dun ih’.”

“Da,” Russia agreed.

Later that night Australia got an earful from England, Germany and New Zealand, Russia was scolded by his sisters, and that French officer was still a prick.

All’s well that ends well.


	31. Hard Time (Family, angst)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I hope your day's been going well! (let's not mention the fact that I haven't updated in forever and I'm eternally sorry and I love you all- I'm a bad author, don't mind me) Massive thanks to everyone who has been leaving comments and kudos, I know I don't say it enough, but I appreciate all of you so so much!
> 
> Warning: one swear is used: it's the s-word
> 
> Context: Let's bend history a little because I don't know if I can specify a time for this to take place, but Australia and New Zealand are in their early/mid teens. This is set before a time that Australia would be in his own country, but late enough for relations between America and England to not be 100% on ice. Maybe 87% on ice. Plus everyone is in their angsty teen phase too, so they're young enough for emo shenanigans and forgetting other people have emotions too.
> 
> Enjoy!

When America got a call from England, he was more than surprised. The two weren't exactly on casual speaking terms, which was fine by him, but it made the following conversation ten times more bizarre.

"You wouldn't happen to be free on Monday would you?" England said, as if fighting a primal force to let himself say it.

"Uh, yeah sure, why?" America asked, highly suspicious but also curious.

"No one is willing to watch New Zealand and Australia while myself and my other colonies are on a day trip," England said.

America's eyebrows raised even if he knew England couldn't see him. The conversation was quickly taking a turn he hadn't expected.

"And New Zealand and Australia aren't coming with you why?" America prompted. It wasn't often America felt as awkward and unsure as he did on the phone to England.

"It's really none of your business," England snapped before sighing and assuming a more reserved tone. "Can you watch over them or not? They're old enough to be self sufficient, I just need someone to ensure they don't run off or injure themselves."

"Uhh..." America winced, knowing this was a bad idea, "Okay, I can watch them."

England was silent for a moment.

"... Really?"

"Yep," America tried to force some optimism into his voice to push past the thick wall of tense air. "I'm the best baby sitter this neck of the woods, it'll be all good."

"I hope so, I don't exactly have anyone else to turn to."

'And I wish it wasn't you' was the unspoken line between them.

"I'll be there then, my boss wants things to uhh, y'know, anyway..." America said, trailing off.

"Yes, well then, good day."

The phone clicked off.

America sat down heavily in his arm chair. What had he just gotten himself into? He really needed to get this right if he ever wanted to get to know England's colonies well. With all the resources in Australia and New Zealand alone, his boss would be adamant things go at least okay in case he ever needed to be on good terms in the future.

The blond pushed back his hair and sat up straight. A covered picture frame danced in his vision, but he skilfully ignored it. Come the end of Monday he would have two new nation friends. He would watch NZ and Aus, England would be ~~proud~~ impressed, his boss would be happy, and he would be able to smile and say he did a good thing.

Hopefully.

—

If there was one thing America hated, it was awkwardness. The tense silences. The words hanging in the air. Usually he'd fein ignorance to break the ice, acting as if he didn't sense the barrier between himself and the other person. However, this time, he found himself wondering if that was the right approach.

"What do you guys do for fun around here?" America asked, still standing in the doorway England recently abandoned.

"Murder," Australia said at the same time New Zealand said, "Sports."

America chuckled nervously as the two brothers glared at each other in silent conversation.

"Well, since one of those is off the table and sport is hard with three players, how about we bake or something?" the eldest nation suggested, trying to move past the two teens to enter the house. "I don't wanna brag, but I make an amazing chocolate cupcake."

"That sounds fun," New Zealand smiled reassuringly at him and started on his way to the kitchen, "right Aus?"

"Yep," Australia said neutrally, "baking sounds nice. Nothing could possibly go wrong there."

America laughed but couldn't help but feel slightly threatened.

During their baking, the USA started to feel almost at ease. It had been an hour and even though they were covered in flour and the kitchen staff were tutting at them, nothing had gone to hell. No cut fingers, no burnt clothes, no arguments.

It was almost going  _too_  well.

Then things started to go sideways.

"Hey New Zealand?" America asked, slotting the batter into the oven.

"Yeah?" the teen turned from washing his hands.

"Where's your brother?"

New Zealand looked around quickly before cursing, "Dammit, I told him not to be an arse."

"What's he doing?" America asked.

"God only knows. Word of advice, just ignore him," the nation said, "he thrives on attention. It's like fuel."

Well that wasn't very reassuring.

Deciding to be a good guardian, America left the kitchen in New Zealand's capable hands and resolved to find Australia before he could do anything too bad. He couldn't mess this up by letting Australia do something crazy.

Being pointed in the direction of the parlour by some overly friendly maids, the blond nation wondered if he was overthinking things. Maybe Australia had gone to the bathroom, or decided to play outside, or read, or some other non-destructive activity. Surely New Zealand has just been taking a jab at his brother and he actually had nothing to worry about.

As America opened one of the side doors, something metal and full of cake batter splattered onto his head. Everything was dark and sticky before he quickly threw the bowl off his head and let it clatter to the ground. The nation cringed as beige liquid ran over his nice clothes and soiled the wooden floorboards of the room. He could hear snickering somewhere in the distance.

As a few cleaners rushed over to him at the noise with horror on their faces, America pulled a bright smile onto his face and laughed in a good-natured way. He didn't want the poor humans to be scared he would go on some rage-filled rampage. Plus, of all the things to be dumped on him, at least it tasted nice.

"I'm terribly sorry sir," one of the women said as a group of them started to carry cleaning supplies to the mess, "please let me wash your coat."

"No worries!" America smiled. "There are worse things to have dumped on you!"

As the nation handed over his jacket and let himself be steered away from the mess, there was no doubt in his mind that Australia was the one who set up the little prank. It was a basic one too. America was almost disappointed in himself that he had managed to fall for it. He would just need to keep a closer eye on where he stepped.

That plan, as it seemed to America about an hour later, was not full proof.

In the last sixty minutes alone, America decided that if he ever got out of England's house alive he would never complain about the older nation being grouchy ever again. It was borderline a miracle that that the man hadn't spiralled into insanity living with the terror that was Australia. He didn't know if it was just him he was being a menace to or wether he was like that all the time, but in all honesty, he didn't want to know. Neither option made him feel all that good.

It started with the cake mix on his head. Then there was the exploding flour. After he changed to get rid of his soiled outfit, his clothes were missing. Then there was the spider in his glass, the rat in his hat, the snake in his boot- oh and the loose floor board, and his old garb hanging from the rafters, and New Zealand tied up in the closet, and his luggage was missing, and-

America took in a deep breath and sighed. He was getting himself worked up over nothing.

He didn't need to be staring at his reflection on the brink of a melt down like an angsty teenager. He needed to buck up and take it like a man. If he crumbled under the slightest pressure now, England would never treat him seriously again.

Even after everything he had done and sacrificed for it.

So yes, if anyone had asked, America would have laughed and said he was fine. If he was being honest, a few of the jokes were funny. They just weren't funny when they kept happening. And happening. And happening. And  _happening_.

Just a few more hours and he'd be done.

"Hey Zea," America waved cheerfully to grab the nation's attention.

New Zealand regarded him with a smile, "How's it?"

"Good," he said, "do you happen to know where your brother is this time? I thought maybe I would suggest we prank together instead of... against each other. Well, against me, the hero, who should not be pranked against... because I'm a hero."

"Uh huh," New Zealand replied sympathetically, seeing the fraying edges of his resolve flapping in the wind, "Maybe you should hang with me instead? Out of reach of the feral."

"Nah," America waved away his offer, "that's like running away! The hero never runs away from a fight!"

"You're not really fighting back," the green-eyed boy retorted. "It's like watching someone throw an imaginary ball to a dog over and over again."

"Yeah well, semantics," he said flippantly. "Your brother has to listen at some point."

"He doesn't," Zea said. "Trust me, I would know."

"We'll see!" America made his way out the house to look around outside.

Everything was okay. He'd find Australia, he'd work out what was bothering him and he'd save the day! He was the hero after all!

He was supposed to be...

No, no, this was a minor set back. Everything was fine. He didn't care that he was being bombarded with shit the whole day. That was fine!

"Oi Eagle boy!"

Oh brother.

"Australia!" America said cheerfully, spotting him walking along the roof. The very high roof. "What're you doing up there?"

"Giving squirrels a home in the unused chimney's," Australia smiled innocently, like a demon, as he let loose another critter. England was going to have a fit when he found out.

"Hey, I know I'm not your favourite person in the world, but could you come down before I have to come up and get you?" America asked, trying to beat off the tone of desperation that was slipping into his voice.

"Now why would I ever do that?" Australia smirked.

This is fine.

"Because you're a good person?" America tried.

Australia gave him a hardened look, "Ha."

That was not how he wanted that to go.

"Okay..." America racked his brains. "How about you wait up there and we can have a little chat on the roof? You wouldn't want to keep the hero from his duties, right?"

"Hero?" Australia said, leaning over the edge precariously to look at America. "That's not what England and his buddies call you."

Oh God.

"Haha, good one," America found the smile on his face becoming more and more strained. "You win, I loose, you can come down now!"

"In fact, you're quite the opposite around here, y'know?" the teenaged nation said, a dark edge starting to creep into the innocent tone as he started pacing. "Big, scary America. Strong, powerful and stupid. Not a loyal bone in his body."

"Hey, I get it!" America cut through. "Nice story, really interesting, let's forget it, okay?"

"He was a trouble maker," Australia ignored America's plea, "a charming boy with a bright smile and endless energy. Or at least he had been before he had his revolution."

He'd heard all this before, again, again, and again. Stop please, tell him to stop. He didn't need to hear it all another time.

What had America done to make this boy so cruel?

"Then he had to be replaced. A big country, lots of land, weird animals and weird native people, now where would anyone find anything like that again?"

Stop talking, please, stop talking.

"Oh yeah, with me!" Australia said with false cheer. "So I became the new trouble maker, charming boy, stupid but strong, and apparently without a single loyal bone in my body."

"Thanks for that," Australia smiled.

Oh...

America looked down at his hands as he found Australia's gaze too burning. How had he not guessed it? Even America himself had commented on the parallels between them, New Zealand and Canada, him and Australia. The Oceanic island wasn't being trouble for no reason, he had a vendetta against him. A personal, rage-filled vendetta because he had no where else to place the hate.

And by God if America didn't deserve it.

He had always wanted be the hero, for his people, for his friends, for his family. In the end he let everything go for only one. He didn't regret it, but he still felt the guilt climb up his spine and whisper endless cruelties into his ears. He felt the creeping sense of failure follow him wherever he stepped. He pretended it wasn't there because that was what he was supposed to do.

He was a nation.

He was strong.

He was untouchable.

He wasn't allowed to be anything else.

No nation was.

So in the end he couldn't blame Australia for lashing out. Nations were supposed to take it. He was, Australia was, England was.

He didn't want to.

America slowly sat down on the ground quietly. Standing was getting exhausting and he so badly just wanted to go to sleep. To forget the entire day even happened.

He laid down and closed his eyes.

Sleep was so nice when he got it. It was quiet and endless and fun. It passed the time that would otherwise be spent worrying and writing and talking. When everything felt bad, sleep was always there to make it seem less so.

America was always a morning person. He always thought it was because he felt better after a good sleep. Like everything righted itself while he was dead to the world.

He so badly wanted to sleep to feel better again. However, being out on the grass in broad daylight was not helping.

After a little while of nothing, America felt something hovering over him. A shadow cast over his closed eyes.

"... Can I join you?"

He knew that voice. He was glad it had come down from the roof.

America nodded and patted the ground next to him for Australia to lie on.

And so they laid in silence. For how long, America didn't now. All he knew was that it started out tense and dissolved into a soft calm. It was hardly how he saw the day going, but he didn't mind. It was as happy of an ending as he could have hoped for.

"I'm sorry for what I said," Australia said. "It wasn't fair. I was just..."

"Angry?" America supplied. He had been there. He had been in Australia's shoes. "It's okay, the hero can take it."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't have to."

America let out a small chuckle, "You're a good kid. I'm honoured people think I was as cool as you."

"I'm not that cool," Australia lightly pushed America's shoulder.

"Says who? I'll punch them," America got up on his elbows.

Australia mirrored the action, "Aren't you supposed to be a good role model or something?"

"I'm a wonderfull role model!"

Australia laughed, "Yeah... I guess you are."


	32. Ouija (Supernatural, humour, crack?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy very very late Halloween!!
> 
> Oh god… it’s been forever guys and I am so so sorry. I just lost a bunch of motivation and no more fresh ideas were coming through to me, so I left these one-shots alone against my better judgment. And one missed chapter turned to two, turned to three and well, you know the rest. I know this one isn’t my best, it’s painfully short and it’s by far not my funniest, but I thought I might as well churn out something or else you’d all be waiting another 4 months. I hope the next time I update won’t be so far from this one! Thank you for sticking around!
> 
> Context: Just some boys in a graveyard doing some ouija board things.
> 
> Enjoy!

“This is a bad idea,” America mumbled. “We shouldn’t mess with the dead, dude.”

 

“ _We’re_ not messing with them,” Australia waved his friend off, setting down the ouija board on the grass. “ _I’m_ messing with them.”

 

“I’m an accomplice!”

 

“What, the hero is scared of a few measly ghosts?”

 

“No! I’m not scared, I’m just- uh- doing my duty, _as the hero_ , to make sure you’re not rude to any of the undead. A hero helps protect people’s feelings to.”

 

“Uh huh, sure.”

 

“It’s true!”

 

“Alright, fine,” Australia said, placing the planchet on the board and readying his fingers atop it, “let’s get a move on then Mr. Fearless.”

 

America regarded the wood and plastic game with a look of fear on his face before he shoved his hands on it like something was going to bite him if he didn’t.

 

“Great,” Australia said, excited about the prospect of toying with a ghost or (if he’s lucky) demon. “Are they’re any spirits who wanna talk to us?”

 

The planchet didn’t move and America let out a sigh of relief.

 

Maybe he wouldn’t get possessed tonight.

 

“Oi ghosts!” Australia suddenly shouted, a maniacal grin on his face. “Are you all too scared to talk to little old me?”

 

“Dude, what are you _doing_?!” America whisper-shouted, as if yelling would piss off the ghosts more.

 

“Getting us a chatting buddy,” Australia winked.

 

“Aus-“

 

“Are you all too chicken? You crying to your mummy ghosts? C’mon, what’s a guy gotta do to talk to a demon around here?”

 

“ _Demon_?!”

 

The planchet started to move.

 

“Dude, not funny- not funny!” America cried out as it went to the ‘H’.

 

“S’not me,” the other nation replied, a gleeful smile on his lips, “must’ve finally gotten through to the other side.”

 

The planchet continued to move, from the ‘E’ to the ‘L’ twice and then finally landing on ‘O’.

 

H-E-L-L-O

 

“Heya,” Australia said. “Who’re we speaking with?”

 

“Please don’t say satan, please don’t say satan,” America muttered under his breath.

 

Australia smirked at him and America started to go red in embarrassment.

 

“Only because then the other ghosts around would have to deal with the devil invading their graveyard,” the older nation defended.

 

“Sure.”

 

J-O-E

 

“Huh, that’s…” America let out a small laugh, “a nice, normal, non-demonic name.”

 

Australia wrinkled his nose in disappointment, “Damn. Joe who?”

 

“M,” America recited as the planchet moved, “‘A’ ‘M’ ‘A’.”

 

“Joe mama?” Australia said in confusion.

 

America let out a violent snort of surprise and doubled over laughing, hands still weakly on the planchet.

 

“The ghost-“ he wheezed, “the ghost- it- it _memed_ us.”

 

“Hey, it’s moving again,” Australia noted.

 

I S-E-E U-P D-O-G

 

“What the hell is up-dog?” Australia muttered, not entirely sure where this was all going.

 

America started wheezing again, tears forming from his laughter.

 

N-O-T M-U-C-H

 

“Oh,” Australia gave the game board a challenging stare, “oh is that how it is?”

 

“Y-yep,” America managed to say between his giggles.

 

“It is _on_.”

 

From deeper in the graveyard, under the light of the first full moon in November, a cloaked figure sat. It watched the nations converse with the ‘spirit’ as it sat alone. The figure smiled devilishly from under the hood as it looked down at it’s own ouija board, a faint glow coming from the object.

 

As the questions of the boys drifted through the air, the figure moved the planchet to form it’s answers. No spirit was really there that night. Only magic, a figure, and some dying memes.

 

The identify of the hooded stranger would never be found. Not by the two nations nor by the whispers of the night. So if a certain trickster Romanian returned home well into the early morning with a gleeful grin on his face, and a ouija board tucked under his arm, no one would ever know.

**Author's Note:**

> (This is also posted on my Fanfic.net account)


End file.
